WARNING: --- Smoking 'Camel Lights' At The
Portland Hilton May Be Murderous To Your Health

After Buying Some 'Camel Lights' From A Machine In The Hilton Lobby --- My Nicotine Nirvana In The Elevator Ends With My Discovery Of An L.A. Cop I Hadn't Seen In Years --- The Cop's Alarm & Paranoia At My 'Discovery' So Intense --- He Freaks & Makes Ready To Murder Me --- Right Fucking Then & There --- 'Saved By The Bell' & Elevator Doors Opening To Hilton Co-Workers Returning From Break

--- The Presence Of The L.A. Cop & His Murderous Reaction Raise More Even More Questions About What's Going On At The Hilton And --- What's It Have To With Me That So Important, That I Was Almost Murdered Over It This Very Day --- March 22nd 1979 Some Rather Revealing 'Recon' & Mind Blowing
Revelations

Part 1-- of this 13 Part Synopsis treatment of ---- "1979" --- Who I was and how I got the job at the Portland Hilton by late-February 1979 ---- A suspiciously obvious tour of the Hilton Presidential Suite --- The nightmare like, recurring dream of the Presidential Suite --- My work routine at the Portland Hilton as an interior painter there March 22nd 1979 --- Returning to work after late morning break & side trip to the hotel lobby for some 'Camel Lights' --- The Incredibly bizarre,near fatal elevator ride back to work on an upper floor --- My return back home back to my Westslope apartment near Portland by 3:30 --- Dinner and wondering as to whether I should return to work at the Portland Hilton or just call in sick. ---- Curious to find out what's up at the Hilton and how all this apparently involves me.

Sub-Parts I through III --- To PART 1 Of This 13 Part
Synopsis & Epilogue To: "1979"

'Outage' of 'Camel Lights' At The Portland Hilton Where I Work

'Outage' of 'Camel Lights' At The Portland Hilton Employee Commisary March 22nd 1979 --- Leads To My Accidental Discovery Of The Presence Of An L.A. Cop I Know --- Last Seen Some 8 Years Before In May 1971, -- Then As My Police Science Class Instructor, A 1000 Miles Away Back In A Smoggy Corner Of L.A.

How ? Who ? Or Why ? This L.A. Cop From My Past --- Should Now Suddenly Appear Out Of The Clear Blue This Thursday Morning In March 1979 In Apparent Undercover 'Drag' As An Elevator Repair Technician For The Otis Elevator Corporation At The Portland Hilton Where I Work --- Is As Mystifying As It Is A Genuine, Once In Blue Moon For Real Mindblowing Coincidence Of Epic Proportions --- Now Apparently Of Causing My Former 'Dutch Uncle' Like Class Instructor To Suddenly Go Jeckyl & Hyde On My Ass --- This As My 'Lucky Strike' Breaktime Escapade Suddenly Goes Bad When The Cop 'Freaks' Over My Discovery And Makes Readies Himself To Murder Me Then & There --- Saved By The Bell & Elevator Doors Opening To My Fellow Co-worker

A Tense & Suspiciously Silent Afternoon --- Quitting Time, With Adrenaline Racing Still Through My Veins Fearful of Getting Off'd At Any Second --- Finally Back At 'The Pad In Westslope' --- I Mention That I Saw A Guy Who Looks Like An L.A. Cop I Know At The Portland Hilton, But That I Could Be Mistaken, As I Study Girlfriend's Reaction Looking For A Clue --- Debating Whether To Or Not To Return Work --- If They Might Not Wait Until After The Weekend To 'Off'.

 

It was mid-morning, sometime after 10:00 am, on Thursday March 22, 1979, at my the place where I then worked, the Hilton Hotel, which was then and still is at the time of this writing in 2004, then located in downtown Portland, Oregon, "The Rose City", of the American "Great Northwest".

I had just finished a rather quick breakfast in an employee's commissary located therein one of thereon one of the sub-levels of the Portland Hilton, having just eaten I then had the usual smoker's craving for a cigarette, whereas I prior to giving up cigarettes for good in December 1980, I had then had habit.

My day-shift hours were from about 7:00 or 7:30 am until about 3:00 or 3:30 pm daily as I recall, whereby we actually worked
only six and a half hours, but were paid for a full 8 hour day, with a full hour lunch and two 20 minute breaks.

As the break time was then nearing an end I then raced to several different cigarette machines therein commissary and also others on another sub-level,
therein a typically semi-urgent dash find that
brand of smokes which I was then rather partial to at the time, those being
"Camel Lights".

As luck would have it, all of the machines I tried the sub-levels were out and as I wasn't allowed to smoke whilst I worked, I grew a little dismayed at the prospect of having to wait another couple of hours until lunch in order to have a smoke I suddenly had an idea as to where I could quickly cop a pack of "Camel Lights", grab a quick smoke, and still make it back to my work as interior room painter, there on one of the upper most floors of the Portland Hilton.

There was catch to my plan however whereas it involved the breaking of one, or rather two of the "Cardinal Rules" laid down by the chief foreman of my paint crew, which I myself was of course a part thereof.

These rules were to always stay out of the Portland Hilton's main lobby on the street level and the other being a ban from using the
Hotel's guest elevators and to
use only the service elevators to go to and from our work and lunch breaks.

I would add that these rules only applied to the other painters and myself
during our day-shift work hours, when we were dressed in our painter's white's and cap, and not during our off hours, when we were coming to or leaving work therein our respective street clothes before going to a sub-level to don our painter's whites, and make ready our painter's carts with various paints, tools, brushes, patching compounds, sandpapers masking tapes and other related items.

So as things turned out that late on that late Thursday morning, on March 22, 1979, I then immediately grabbed what was as I recall a Hilton Hotel service elevator , got off in the hotel lobby, made a beeline for the bank of several well stocked cigarette machines, and got a pack of "Camel Lights" thereon my first try from the cigarette machine and carefully looking around to see if I was being spotted by one of our work supervisors, foreman, or possibly
one of the hotel detectives who might inform on me for breaking two major rules of my employment at the Portland Hilton.

Not wanting to get caught returning to work late from break I decided that I would then take one of the guest elevators leading back up to one of the upper floors we were then working as a crew.

There I was there in the ground level lobby of the Portland Hilton,
Therewith a nicotine induced nirvana, which occasionally alternated between a calming satisfaction and intermittent attacks of nervousness out of fear of discovery from hotel management or possibly even one of the hotel detectives that might at any given moment chance upon my presence therein hotel lobby, as I stood there conspicuously waiting for the first hotel guest elevator that would take me back-up to the floor of rooms I was then working on.

I further recall that when the bell rang for the elevator, I tensed for a split-second and took a drag as the elevator doors opened and looked with much relief to see that the only two occupants of the Hilton guest elevator, weren't Hilton employees at all, whereas they were wearing matching uniforms that clearly indicated that they were employees of the Otis Elevator company, and both each wore well stocked tool pouches, worn professionally as well.

I remember that I was much relieved to see I wasn't gonna get busted as entered the hotel guest elevator car, whereby I then blew out a rather large drag I had just inhaled thus creating a miniture cloud of cigarette smoke and haze,
whereas I figured that these guys weren't very likely to rat me out to the Hilton management.

And so with a casual workman like swag I then staked out a corner near the floor button control panel, and gingerly reached over and punched the floor-button in the elevator car for the upper floor at which I then worked, and made sure to take another drag off my smoke whereas once I got to my floor I had to put my cigarette out and make double-time back to work out of concern for being disciplined or even possibly being dismissed for violating the terms of my employment.

The two workmen wearing the Otis elevator repair uniforms, must have both triggered somehow triggered my internal radar, whereas without thinking I instinctively made note of their physical appearance, both gents being well over six feet tall, around six-four.

Both were meticulously well groomed and shaven, although one had a moustache, however the odor of aftershave which somehow cut tight through all the cigarette smoke I blowing at the top of elevator car.

These two rather tall, trim and physically fit and powerful looking men looked to be in top form, and were in their late thirties or early to mid-forties.

My instincts must have told my subconscious that the last time I saw two tall guys like this together they were cops, so when I saw these two tall Otis repairmen I guess that they reminded of too, too many cops, and under-cover Narcs and such, I had been accustomed to seeing from time to growing up a kid and teenager in during the post assassination ridden -Vietnam War era in the late 1960's through mid-1970's as an expatiated L.A. County-Southern Californian who by March 22, 1979, hade become a resident of the greater Portland metro area and hard working employee of the Hilton Hotel in downtown Portland, Oregon a thousand miles from L.A..

I guess that I must have wanted to reaffirm my findings on the only two other occupants of the Otis elevator car , whereas through the exhalations of cigarette smoke and with ever so subtle tilts of my head, thereby obscuring my eyes from theirs, being only five-foot four, to their six-foot four, I then then made note of the emblems on there uniforms and re-read the name Otis thereon their light blue shirts with dark blue stripes which matched the color of their navy blue work pants

I then noted that the elevator car that we were all being carried in at that very moment, was after all manufactured, and thereby presumably installed and apparently maintained by the Otis elevator car company, as plainly evidenced by the two elevator maintenance men sporting the matching uniforms with the Otis
emblems stitched on their work shirts.

I would from time to time glance over at the floor display indicator
Slowly ticking off the floors we had passed without the interruption of any guest or Hilton staff chancing to stop and board the Otis made elevator car making it's way back up to the upper floors of the Portland Hilton, trying to get in as many drags from my Camel Light cigarette as could before the car stopped and I would have to put it out, and go back to work.

As I stood there in my corner in the front of the elevator car, and the two in the Otis repairman's uniform both stood next to each other , which in some ways looked like a couple of soldiers at ease, but on the ready, there along the rear wall of the elevator car, directly opposite the polished steel automatic elevator doors, I noticed that one of the two gents in repairman's uniform's, the guy with the neatly trimmed moustache and straight brown hair, looked a perfunctorily and politely impatient as many folks habitually do when the elevator there in goes up or down between the floors.

Using the routine of my workman's manners, I once again ever so slightly titled my head back as I blew out yet another drag from my smoke which enabled me to grab a quick, but in more depth glance in casual matter of fact manner thereat the other Otis repairman, although as soon as the steel doors opened down below in the lobby of the Portland Hilton I immediately took note of his shaved head, light colored eyes, possibly hazel, maybe blue-gray, and most discernable bearing and manner which one associates with men from the military or possibly a police background of some kind, as the elevator car and we inside continued to proceed to climb the upper floors of the Hilton.

It was then and there, therein the close confines of the elevator car,
though a slight haze of cigarette smoke, that my past suddenly had a head on collision with then the present thereon March 22, 1979, as the elevator car steadily rose upwards at there at the Portland Hilton, whereas I had just recognized the face of one of the two tall men wearing in Otis elevator repairman's uniform, and had the shaved head.

I was astounded to say the least. "What the f__k is he doing here?" was my first thought, my second thought being that I must be mistaken it couldn't be, and yet there he was all six-foot four of him as plain as day.

This man that I recognized in the elevator repairman's uniform was no repairman at all, in fact the last time I saw that face that I recognized, it was some eight years earlier in mid- May 1971 and thousand miles away in college classroom back home in Southern California.

The man whose face I recognized therein the still rising elevator located thereat the downtown Portland Hilton, a thousand miles away from Covina and that part of Los Angeles County California from which I lived from the age four in 1957 and attempted to find a life in until Labor Day Weekend 1974 when I stuck out my thumb and tried to leave all the rot, and 'kiss-my-suntanned ass' mentality and all the rest that I found distasteful.

The tall man in the elevator, with the shaved head, and face which I recognized in the elevator at the Portland Hilton on March 22, 1979 who I last saw back in the spring of 1971, was a Detective-Sergeant, with the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department.

How do I know this, very simple the man who I had just made as being an L.A. cop therein the Otis elevator repairman's drag at my workplace the Portland Hilton was in addition to being L.A. Sheriff's Sergeant, was in 1971 also my college class instructor thereat a local community college, Citrus Co0ege to be exact, located in Glendora, California.

The class that this L.A. Detective, who was dressed in and elevator repairman's disguise and who was for some f__king reason, was most apparently working undercover thereat my work place, now some eight years later, was my college police science instructor for a class titled: "Introduction to Public Service", details of which I will go into a bit later.

Again returning to the Thursday morning elevator ride at the Portland Hilton, on March 22, 1979, my first response was to play it cool and say nothing, and take another drag off my Camel Light therein my corner of the elevator, and to run some more visual recon over this cop's face but good, meanwhile my other sensory and subliminal self-preservation radar kicked in to feel out the vibes, and smell out a rat so to speak, the odor of which became seemed to intensify by the second.

And so it was, therewith my pulse uncontrollably racing and the ominously invisible specter of fear and mayhem now blending with all that cigarette smoke
Which then filled the top half of elevator car, just played it cool as I formulated the most subtly non-descript, guises and stealth like subterfuges in order to snatch a few more glimpses of this face I then recognized without arousing suspicions somehow.

This was accomplished by the use of various combinations of body English, comprised of vacant stares, the use of the brim of my painter's cap as a kind of shutter-blind which broke up my line vision of this undercover cop's face, which combined with movements from my right arm arm as I took drags from my cigarette, along with other the physical affectations and mannerisms I had acquired over the years.

After several or possibly more quick glances from under my cap brim, during this
March 1979 elevator ride at the Portland Hilton confirmed my findings, whereby my intense curiousity, had suddenly taken on an intense aspect of alarm bordering on the emotion of fear.

My guess is that my old police science college instructor, the L.A. Sheriff's Sergeant, playing undercover cop at my workplace was up on his game too, whereas like the cop he was, he must have sensed or smelled the scent of fear coming off me
whereas for just a second or so his face, if not his entire head suddenly flushed red as this undercover cop looked nervously up at the ceiling therein an apparent spasm of well disciplined anxiety and frustration most apparently thereas the result of discovery of his presence, which thereby in turn blew his cover wide f__king open.

I then glanced at the other tall guy in the elevator who was also tricked in elevator repairman's drag, and was I now knew for certain was also come of cop, possibly even FBI, or CIA for all I knew, but who therein sharp contrast to his partner, looked straight out into space thereat automatic doors, clearly oblivious to the increasingly tense situation then unfolding between myself and his partner.

Once I had positive identification of this cop, my college instructor who I spotted and recognized in the elevator car at the Portland Hilton on March 22, 1979,
the L.A. County Sheriff's Sargeant, from a time period then eight years earlier in 1971, and a 1000 miles away from the college classroom in Southern California,
other questions then came to my mind.

I wondered just what in the hell this L.A. County Sheriff's Sargeant was doing here in of all places the Portland, Oregon all tricked out therein the disguise of an elevator repairman, apparently working undercover for some reason or another, and most of all his looks of alarm at my having made this rather startling discovery of his presence therein Portland, a thousand miles from L.A. and at my workplace no less.

As for my old college instructor, the undercover cop from L.A. whose cover was just blown wide open, in between sly glances when I took a drag or blew out smoke, I then noted how the flush of red had just left his face thereby indicating that his shock had now subsided, thereat my having discovered him in disguise at the Portland Hilton, radically changed from an expression of extreme embarrassment at having been "outed" as it were, to one of a relative calm and was replaced by a cold steely like resolve thereon this uncover cop's face..

By this time now, the elevator seemed to take an eternity on it's way to the upper floors of the Portland Hilton, whereby I became increasingly nervous and then literally terrified thereat the change of expression from intense anxiety and frustration, on this uncover cop's face, whereby I could see in eyes the look of a cold and ruthlessly calculating desperation, which he now seemed to use thereas a kind of psychological device to switch him into taking actions which only the truly desperate can imagine or understand.

The f__cker was ready to kill me. Why ?? Why else ?? Somehow my old college instructor, the L.A. Sheriff's Sargeant freaked when he saw me, big time, which meant he was plugged in to the wierd events, murders, mayhem and events of then recent months past, which I will also delve into a bit later, and what's worse this meant that I was most apparently somehow to be unwittingly connected therewith whatever undercover police operation that this cop was working on, thereat my place of employment, the Portland Hilton.

This radically intense metamorphosis in the demeanor and mindset of this L.A. Cop who was once my old college police science instructor, therein the close confines of the Hilton elevator car was a most terrible and horrifying experience behold, which I might best describe thereas being thrown in lion's cage, waiting for a big cat to rip me to shreds and then chew me up like some quarry.
I became so terrified therein that Hilton elevator car, in March 1979 that I became almost , but not quite frozen with fear, that I might not survive this elevator ride and turn up dead at the end of the line, whatever floor that might be.


During this intensely dangerous and potentially volatile interlude with my old college police science instructor under the some rather bizarre circumstances,
I had a couple things going for me though, mainly my experience as a long time hitch-hiker, small time pot and pills dealer, and as a former jail house inmate from time to time, which I combined therewith some things I had read in books, magazines, the movies and certain television shows, all fused together with a kind sense of self-preservation and my own brand of desperation and resourceful imagination which made me a somewhat formidable therein my own right.

Although I may not have realized it at the time, one of, if not the only reason that my old college instructor, the L.A. Sheriff 's Detective Sergeant didn't grab my ass right then and there, was most likely due to the fact that he was paranoid that I myself may have had my own connections to other factions of the police and intelligence community, and was working deeper cover than he was, and had somehow been tipped-off to whatever scam was being set-up to go down at the Portland Hilton.

Assuming this was the case, my old school police science instructor most likely figured that our freak, chance meeting therein a Hilton guest elevator, was no mere coincidence at all, but rather the result of his having been spotted by other police or possibly U.S. Secret Service agents working undercover, who with their intensive surveillance of my old school police science instructor,
then skillfully manipulated me, either consciously or unconsciously therein jumping on the precise same elevator that he was on at that very moment and point in time./

If this was the case, then it was possible that I was wearing a "wire", (equipped with an electronic listening device and transmitter) , then being closely monitored during the March 22, 1979 elevator ride, whereby it would have only made matters worse if he knocked me out, grabbed and tried to kill me.

There was also the very real possibility that I was being thrown out like bait for this L.A. Sheriff's Sergeant who apparently jumped to the CIA, DIA, FBI or intelligence agency, in order to smoke him out of his coved and thereby tip their hand with regard to whatever "Black Op's" scam they were running.

It was really pretty bizarre, the petty pot dealer criminal became an agent for good, like a cop, and the cop became a criminal. Pretty weird huh ?
"Just as every cop is criminal and all the sinners saints, whoo, whoo,
whoo, whoo…"
Another thing that I had going for me at the time was the fact that the ire
other tall guy in the Otis elevator repairman's disguise and who was also presumably working undercover, who was, or at least acted oblivious to the then present situation,, as if he was preoccupied with other things on his mind, which combined which combined with my workingman's demeanor seemed to created a kind of atmosphere of civility and normality of an everyday workplace routine.

This veneer of work place routine, I suspect caused my former college instructor the L.A. Sheriff's Detective, was another factor which may have stayed his hand, and debate in his mind as to whether or not it would have been wise
to resort to extreme measures and become either and or my kidnapper and executioner, and murder me right then and there, or at least knock me, and then take me somewhere else for a little drugging and interogation before rubbing me out.

Then there was the most real and definite possibility that assuming he, my old college instructor, the L.A. Cop working undercover in disguise, was then being set up for a fall himself, it wouldn't look too good to have the elevator doors open with my dead or unconscious body in the elevator car therein the event that there were other agents or cops backing my play at the Portland Hilton ready to pounch on him and his undercover partner when the elevator doors opened at the floor I had just punched.

As things turned out during this spooky ass, March 1979 Hilton Hotel elevator ride to hell, I was saved by the bell, to coin a phrase, whereas it was
the ring of the elevator bell which announced the upper floor at the Portland Hilton which was my stop, which made jubilant with joy that I had arrived
at the upper floor which punched on the elevator control panel.

I shudder to think what might have happened had the two undercover cops and or agents would have picked a floor which stopped before mine did, and so I got of the elevator alive but I knew for a fact that this elevator incident would set into motion
Yet another chain of events from which I might well not be so lucky as to walk away from alive.

As the elevator doors closed behind me, I then took a another long drag off my smoke therein the corridor of rooms to which I had been assigned to, put out in an ashtray and proceeded back to work as if nothing had happened, and spent the rest of the workday going over and over those events which took place therein that Hilton elevator the rest of the day, and well into that very evening, and even the following morning, Friday March 23, 1979, when yet a whole other series of weird events were unfolded thereat the Portland Hilton, most apparently thereas the result of the elevator incident the previous day.

 

 

 

 

II
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Pt 1 Sub Part 2

'Beware the Ides Of March' --- 1979

Why I Started Work At The Portland Hilton In Spite Of --- Or Rather Because Of My Suspicions, Fears & Extreme Reservations About Accepting A Job There --- The Episodically Timed & Curiously Odd Tour Of The Hilton Presidential Suite --- Incredibly Weird Scenes At The March '79 Vinton Film Expo In Portland, And Other Recently Bizarre Events There As Well --- My Recurring Dream Subconciously Warning Me Of Danger At The Hilton Presidential Suite ---

This In Light Of Then Recent, Bizarrely & Deadly Events Since My Return To The Portland - Vancouver, Washington Area --- Since My Return Home In L.A. Some 17 Months Earlier In September 1977

My Birthday Off Work --- The Bizarre Events At The Vinton Film Exposition Only Days Before ---The Move To Westslope Near Portland --- Spooky Recurring Dream Of Me Returning To The Presidential Suite At The Portland Hilton --- The Result Of CIA Drug-Hypno Implanting ?? A Precognitive Premonition ?? A Bit Of Both ??

Chapter 69.of "1979" --- Early-January through late-February 1979
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So, That's What This Is All About --- They're Gonna'
Try And Frame My Ass at the Portland Hilton"

QE II Begins Unprecedented mid-East visit in mid February 1979 only 6 weeks prior to March
26 1979 Camp David Peace accord signing at the White House

The 'Manpower Temps' Job at 'Graybar Electric'---
My Housemates, The Government Informants,
Double-team like Sales Pitch --- For Me to apply for a painter's job at the Portland Hilton Where They Worked

No Choice Now --- But To Play Out My Hand &
See What All This Is Leading Up To

The Weird-Ass Warehouse Job --- The 'Double-Teamed',
Sales Pitch To Me --- For A Painter's Job Opening
Job at The Portland Hilton February '79

Pre-staging holding pattern For Observation & Evaluation at a Local Warehouse Prior to Placing the intended patsy at the Portland Hilton in Late February '79

Weirdness at 'Gray Bar' - 'Square-D' Electrical Warehouse in Southeast Portland therewith the regular employee who sometimes chatted & quizzed me during breaks --- His photo of himself dressed up like some white guy's, armed militant radical costume complete with a beret, leather jacket & automatic rifle

there plus an Agent Provocateur or ???

--- My new housemates --- Informants O'Brien & Benny 'Double-Team' to persuade me to apply for the job opening at the Portland Hilton
--- Fuck it, whatever's the game is - it's gotta be there - so I'll
play along just to find out what it is

Chapter 72. -- Mid-March 1979 The Ides of March --- March 15, 1979 mmmm??? ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

Visions of Doom --- Beware The Ides of March '79

The Chillingly Real --- Premonition Like --- Recurring Dream of myself at the Portland Hilton Presidential Suite

THE RECURRING DREAM ? PREMONITION ? VISION ?
THEREOF THE VERY SAME PRESDENTIAL SUITE I HAD JUST
BEEN GIVEN A GUIDED TOUR OF 2 WEEKS EARLIER;

THE POSSIBLE RESULT OF A PSYCHIC PREMONITION ?

MORE THAN LIKELY PARTLY THE RESULT OF CIA MK-ULTRA
DRUG-HYPNO-SLEEP-IMPLANTING, WHEREBY THE IMPLANTED
SUBJECT & INTENDED PATSY WAS FIRST LED TO THE INTENDED CRIME-SCENE CONCIOUSLY IN PREPARATION FOR SUBLIMANALLY IMPLANTED CUES TO GO THERE WHEN THE TIME WAS RIGHT;

POSSIBLE UNEXPECTED SIDE EFFECTS FROM THE SUBLIMINAL SUBCONCIOUS IMPLANTING, EMERGING INTO MY CONCIOUSNESS SIMILAR TO THE RECURRING DREAMS OF THE SOLDIERS AT "THE FLOWER SHOW" IN THE BOOK,
"THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE";

PLAUSIBLE RESULT BASED ON THE EMERGENCE OF
FEARS & EMOTIONS SUPPRESSED THERE THE THEN RECENT MONTHS, ALL THE WEIRD HAPPENINGS & RATHER STRANGE TOUR OF THE HILTON PRESIDENTIAL SUITE;
& MY WORK FOREMAN "RUSS'S" SUDDEN PANIC & IMPLAUSIBLY LAME EXCUSE FOR THE LITTLE TOUR ON COMPANY TIME.

ALL THOSE OTHER LITTLE WEIRD EVENTS WHICH TOOK PLACE
THEREIN THE THEN RECENT MONTHS & WEEK PRIOR TO MID MARCH 1979, AS COVERED THEREIN THE CHAPTERS OF MY BOOK; "1979" WOULD MOST LIKELY GIVE ANYBODY BAD DREAMS SLEEPING OR AWAKE, IT WAS LIKE MY SUBCONCIOUS WAS TRYING TO WARN MY CONCIOUS MIND.

 

 

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Insert Photo Montage For The Elevator Incident Here

 

 

 

 

 

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III
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Pt 1 Sub Part 3

Awestruck & Wary The Remainder Of My Workday --- Back Home Debating Whether Or Not To Return To The Portland Hilton Next Day

Wary & Awestruck The Remainder Of Workday --- The Mindblowing Discovery Of The L.A. Cop I Knew --- There At The Portland Hilton Where I'm Now Working --- Thinking What Might Have Happened If The Elevator Arrived At The Cop's Floor First --- Instead Of Stopping At Mine First --- Trying Not To Think To Much As Suddenly There Is A Sea Change In The Air At Work --- Back Home At Westslope --- Informing My Live-in Girlfriend Who I Don't Trust, But Sleep With Every Night --- Of My Discovery, Acting Like I Could Have Been Mistaken --- Debating Whether Or Not To Return To Work At The Hilton Next Day --- A Insanely Reckless Idea At Best

An Ambiguously Weird Last Couple Of Hours At The Portland Hilton --- Like There Was Something In The Air --- And Everyone Was Watching & Waiting To See What Happens Next --- Though somehow low key Quitting Time Finally With Adrenaline Racing Through My Veins --- Back Home At 'The Pad In Westslope' With Girlfreind --- Crazy To Consider Returning To Work --- But Gambling That I Won't Be Murdered Until After The Weekend --- Intensely Curious, But Fearfull Of Being Off'd At The Hilton --- I Decide To Sleep On It BesI Can

A Tense & Suspiciously Silent Afternoon --- Quitting Time, With Adrenaline Racing Still Through My Veins Fearful of Getting Off'd At Any Second --- Finally Back At 'The Pad In Westslope' --- I Mention That I Saw A Guy Who Looks Like An L.A. Cop I Know At The Portland Hilton, But That I Could Be Mistaken, As I Study Girlfriend's Reaction Looking For A Clue --- Debating Whether To Or Not To Return Work --- If They Might Not Wait Until After The Weekend To 'Off'.

 

 

Click Here For Part 2 Of --- "1979"

 

 

Please click the blue web-links below to go to any page in this website
Synopsis of My Book "1979"

Website Page: Index

Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3 --- Part 4 --- Part 5 --- Part 6 --- Part 7

Part 8 --- Part 9 --- Part 10 --- Part 11 --- Part 12 --- Part 13 --- Epilogue