"1979" "1979" "1979" "1979" "1979" "1979" "1979""1979" -- Copyright 2001 - 2010 James Thomas Westbrook --- All Rights Reserved --- The author exercises any and all rights of exclusivity he is lawfully entitled to pursuant U.S. Copyright Law as a literary property, ---- "1979". ---- first registered December 31st 2001 with the U.S. Copyright Office. ---- The author also exercises any and all copyright protection he is entitled to as a graphic artist --- regarding the copyrighted photo art montages included thereon each and every one of the title pages of Parts 1 through 13 ---- as well as the various Roman Numeric Sub-Parts comprising, Parts 1 through 13 --- of this synopsis to "1979" --- my copyrighted non-fiction book on which the copyrighted material posted herein this website is posted thereat http: 1979westbrook.com.--- Any inquiries regarding the material contained herein this website may be made by contacting me at my e-mail address: James@79westbrook@gmail.com or calling me on the phone at ( 310 ) 902-1058.
PART 8
And Now a Message From the 'Rock & Roll' Underground:"Well It's Eight O'clock In Boisee Idaho...""We Now Interrupt This Program To Report That
Ronnie Van Zant Of The 'Lynyrd Skynyrd' Band Is Dead''Cryptic Warnings Of Idaho From 'The Lynyrd Skynyrd' Rock Band's New Album --- "Street Survivors" --- The Plane Crash Death 'Skynyrd's' Lyricist Van Zant's By Mid-October '77 ---The 'Mob' Job Offer The Next Day --- Halloween Headgames, A 'Staged' 'Hit &Run' --- Informants & Attempted Frame-Ups --- New Freinds, And An Acquaintance From L.A. --- Former Co-workers From Fall '75 At The April '78 Anti-Nuke Rally --- Photos Of Me For Mislabling To Another Anti-Nuke Demonstration Aimed At President Carter --- Attempted 'Pot-Bust' Entrapment Set-Up Mid May '78 --- The Memorial Day Weekend Trip To Northern Cal In Preparation Of My Move There For The Summer --- This In Order To Evade More Police & Fed ? Frame-Up/Set Ups In The Portland-Vancouver Metro Area
Fellow Jail Inmates O'Brien & Benny --- The Jailhouse Duo's Then Future Reappearance,Within Hours Of My Then Future Return To Portland In September '78 --- O'Brien & Benny 'Episodically Timed' --- Their Future Multiple Reappearances Through Fall '78 --- Most Importantly, The Role Of My Former Fellow Jail Inmates, Roles In Getting Me The Job At The Portland Hilton Where I Work --- Only last Month In February 1979
My March '79 Weekend At My Westslope 'Pad' --- Then Flashing Back To My Move Up To Vancouver, Washington Near Portland --- And My Nine-Month Stay There From Mid-September '77 Through Early-June 1978 --- Cryptic Warnings Of Idaho From 'Skynyrd' Band's New Album, Plane Crash Death 'Skynyrd's' Lyricist Van Zant, His Death By Mid-October --- Halloween '77 Head Games In Portland & Post-Party, 'Staged' 'Hit & Run' --- A Cold & Wet Winter Working Construction --- Visit To Portland May 3rd '78 -- In Mi--- Vancouver Jail & O'Brien & Benny Their 'Miraculous' Appearance, Four Months Later In September '78, Within Hours Of My Return To Portland --- My June '78 Move Back Down To Northern California To Spend My Summer 1978
6th Stop on Assassination Revelation Weekend March 24-25, 1979 at my Westslope apartment near Portland --- “Flashing Back” during my nine-month long stay in Vancouver, Washington, the circumstances, events and misadventures in which I became involved in therein Vancouver,Portland,Western Oregon And Northern California from to mid September 1977 on through mid-June 1978
Sub-Parts I through V--- To PART 8 Of This 13 Part
Synopsis & Epilogue To: "1979"
I
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Pt 8 Sub Part 1
My Arrival In Vancouver, Washington September 11th 1977 --- The 'Skynyrd' Rock Band Plane Crash Deaths In October 20th 1977 --- The Band's New Album's Cryptic Lyrics --- "Well It's Eight O'Clock In Boisee Idaho..." --- My Wife & Greg's Deadly Idaho Connections October '76 And Now ThisFeeling Safer In Vancouver, Being Paraniod Of Portland And Wary Of Wifey Too ---The Paint Store Job In Portland --- Move To A House In Vancouver --- Trips To Portland Looking For Work --- Visits To Portland See My 'Ex' & My Kid Who Just Had Me Served Papers
My Arrival In Vancouver, Washington September 11th 1977
This In Order To See And Be Near My Newborn Son in Portland--- Working & playing a bit --- Being diplomatic with my new roommate, my soon to be 'Ex' & Portland-Vancouver 'Locals' -
Weirder Still The Songs On The 'Skynyrd' Band's Latest Rock Album; "Street Survivors" --- The Song Lyrics 'Well It's 8 O'clock In Boiseee, Idaho..." --- Reminding Me Of Girlfroend's July '75 Lie That Pocatello Was Located Near Boise, Her Solo Visits to Pocatello --- Near Jackson Hole Where Her Cousin Moved To Back In September '74 The Week Of My First Visit To Portland --- Greg's Return Trip Visit To Portland From Idaho, With October '76 News Of The September '76 Death Of A Biker I Partied With More Than Once, In Yreka, California Back In '75 --- Weirder Yet The Circumstances Of The Biker's Death --- Purportedly The Result Of A Head-On Of His Harley Into A Mororhome Near The Snake River --- With Greg's Girlfriend Reportedly His Passenger At The Time Makes The Hairs On The Back Of My Neck Stand-Up --- As He Proceeds To Tell Tale Of His Visit With Her Conveniently Out Of Circulation --- Reportedly Therein Some Idaho Hospital, Presumably In Or Around Boise Accordinmg To Greg.
Upon Further Personal and Not So Personal Introspection & reflection This Weekend Of March 24th -25th 1979 --- There In My Dimly Lit Apartment Near Portland --- Over Ridiing The Waves Of Fear & Paranoia Threaening To Swamp Me Over --- Further Recounting The Evernts Of October '76 In The Apartment I Shared With My Then Girlfriend Karen During Greg's October 1976 Visit --- After Hearing About The Involvement Of Greg's Girlfriend Therein The Fatal Bike Crash Death, Then Only Some Odd Days Earlier --- I recall Holding My Breath, As I Then Turned My Head To Look Over At My Own Girlfriend
--- Wondering About Those 'Plans For Me Up North' , That She Accidentally 'Spilled' During A Drug-Alcohol- Induced and Pain driven Rage, In The Minutes & Hours Following Her Spontaneous Combustion At The Callahan Days Music Festival In July '75 --- This, Only Before Greg's Stabbing There The Following Night And The 'Hairy' 40 Mile Drive Back To A Hospital In Yreka That Night.And The October '77 Plane Crash Reportedly Killing The Band Leader / Lyricist, Ronnie Van Zant His Last Published Lyrics --- "Well It's Eight O'clock In Boisee Idaho..." --- Only Two Days After The Song's, 'Street Survivors's' Album Release --- Like The Song With The Boisee Idaho Lyric's --- The Song entitled "That Smell" Another Warning Of Sorts, More So If Anything.
Viewing things From My point in time perspsecitve in March '79 --- With regard to the October '77 plane crash of 'Skynyrd' band Leader Van Zant, & Two Other Band Members --- It Seemed then In October '77 and even More so this weekend of March 24th -25th 1979 --- that Lyricist Van Zant & Band Member Steve Gaines Another song lyricist ---- were most certainly murdered over the cryptic message like references to Boise, Idaho and Evil Swooping in around one in the other song "That Smell" --- perhaps much in the same way that the Mexican Restaurant owner in Portland was murdered only days after I met the owner and ate dinner at his establishment --- erra
My Wife's Own Rather Mysterious Connections & Solo Trips To Pocatello, Idaho Since Late 1974 --- Her July '75 Lie About Pocatello's Location Near Idaho Falls --- Idaho Falls The Then Future Site Of The 'Botched' August '78 Presidential Death Threat --- Which I Was Almost Murdered Over Myself, Only Days Later In September '78
--- What really tied all my girlfriend's solo trips to Idaho in 1975-76, her frightened & stupid lie about the location of Pocatello in July '75 --- thereto the October '77 plane crash deaths of 'Skynyrd' Band --- Was the Botched August '78 Presidential Death Threat In Idaho Falls --- Idaho Falls ??, Say ??? Isn't That Just North Of Pocatello, Idaho --- In Eastern Idaho --- Not Western Idaho, near Boise where girlfreind told me Pocatello was located.
I also had the advantage of knowledge from then recent events only 7 months earlier in late August Early September 1978 --- and how I was first informed of the Botched August '78 Death Threat Against President Carter In Idaho Falls and then quizzed about it by one fellow crew member of my land surveying party at Olsen Engineering --- and then sent off to another crew and was apparently almost murdered over it by two other crew members only to be saved by a car phone reprieve --- which meant that all this most defirnitely had something to do with all secretive solo trips my then live-in girlfreind Karen had made since the Fall Of 1974 --- only weeks after I met her.
My October '78 Face-to-Face meeting with a senior FBI agent under bizarrely revealing circumstances --- confirmed my long held suspicions that I was under surveillance in Portland and apparently all through Nothern Cal as well the Summer of 1978
Greg October '76 visit Karen & I back from Idaho With news of the death of a Yreka, Califoirnia Biker I knew --- and who died in a motorcycle crash in which Greg's Girlfriend survived --- makes me wonder if the biker wasn't simply lured to Idaho by Greg's girl, and possibly interrogated over what he might have told me --- before he was murdered --- I could somehow sense the taint of death about Greg somehow during his visit --- when the other facets of his multiple personality became so plainly visible.
Click on the image-link to view Chapter 35 of my old Book-Chapter outline of "1979" which I had originally posted back in 2005 just days before the Hurricane Katrina disasters which befell New Orleans and the that region of the south. --- In this particular section I cite from various reference sources, books as well as newspaper articles. --- I would also add that in the weeks to come I intend to consolidate most all my various writings on the October 1977 plane crash which reportedly killed three members of the 'Lynyrd Skynyrd' band --- as well as what I contend were, are thereby still are these 30-years plus later, the true politically motivated conspiratorial machinations behind it all. --- J.T. Westbrook March 7, 2010
II
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Pt 8 Sub Part 2
A Spooky Halloween '77 Party Complete With CIA ? And Possibly Other Kinds Intel 'Spooks' Checking Me Out --- The Pre-Planned 'Stage Dummy' Hit & Run' Driving Into Downtown Later That Night - Apparently Some Kind Of Psychogical Profiling Of Me --
- I Musn't Blab What I Know And Continue To Play Along & Not Let On Or I'm Dead --- Maybe I Should Split It's Just Too Fucking 'Spooky' Up Here All Alone --- I Think I Will
--- What Else Could It Be ?? But Why ?? To What End ?? --- Like A Fucking Rat In A Maze, It's Too Unbelievable --- But Then Again There It All Is --- And What About That Portland Restaurant Owner Who Turned Up Dead The Year Before In January '76
Intel 'Spooks' ?? Feds ?? Checking Me Out At Wifey's October '77 Halloween House Party Next To Laurelhurst Park--- My Radar On Ever Since The Idaho Related --- 'Skynyrd' Band Deaths Days Before --- The Staged 'Hit & Run', Complete With A 'Stage Dummy' Upon Leaving The Party For Downtown Portland --- Some Kind Of Psychological Testing Now Coming Into Play Now In March '79 --- Getting Too Fucking Weird & Scary For Me Seriously Considering Leaving Town & Returning Home Next Week --- Paranoid' Over The 'Skynyrd' Deaths, I Consider Leaving Town That Night --- Sex With 'The Ex' In Portland Next Evening
* Sigliano and I go over to Bob's SW Vancouver apartment, close in to downtown on our day off, 10/28/77, We went to score some pot, and we have a few beers in the meantime, and the subject comes up,about Halloween parties andd such Sigliano has plans, but Bob and I do not, have any plans however I mention the party my soon to be ex-wife and her freinds are throwing but also experess no desire to go there because I know where I can find out where perhaps a half dozen other Halloweens parties in the Portland and possibly Vancouver area, just by cruising through a few local hangouts in in Portland, one being a Portland's Washington Park.
About 2:00 pm in the afternoon, Sigliano takes off in his Jeep Wagoneer, whereas he to run a few errands and has some plans for that night, some sort of Halloween party or function to go to, as it is Saturday, October 28, 1977, the Halloween party weekend.
As I have no plans and no wheels for the night, and whereas Bob has his 1940's vintage panel truck or any plans himself, I hangout over there and Bon and I have some more beers and smoke some more joints to see if we can come up with any ideas where to party.
About 3:30pm or so Bob start the big push, thryong to persuade me to go to my soon to the party at my soon to be ex-wife's and her friends house in Portland, and as I don't have any wheels we go around and around for about and hour and a half, or possibly longer.Bob firmly locked on the idea of going to the party in Portland being thrown by my wife and her housemates, I counter by arguing that there atre plenty more parties in Portland other than th one going on there, and counter that we hit Washington Park and some
places I know in Portland where we can find out some other party places, whereas I was being divorced by her, I looking forward to going out, having some fun and finding some girls who want to party and hopefully get laid.After an hour and a half or more of what I recall to be some rather vigorous debate, Bob and I work out a compromise I will him an invition to the party at my then wife's place to see if we pick up on chicks and possibly get a line on other parties, for a bit and then we will do what I want namely takeoff
for Washington Park, the a big hangout for teens and young people.At first I kind of wondered if Bob was one of those guys who likes young divorcee's, as my own personal experience, a well as the common wisdom of the day has proven young divorcee's as sometimes being easy pickings when it comes to getting laid.I, like most any other guys then in my position spot didn't much like the idea Bob boning the chick that roped me into a bogu marraige as kind of pride thing, but I figured that I might as well get used to it, and the sooner the better, whereas I needed Bob that night to check out he local Halloween parties.This being the situation I had no reason to see any alterior motive for Bob's extraordinarily dogged persistence in pressuring me to go to my soon to be ex-wife an her friends's Halloween house
party, and the place was rather large two story place, having spent the night over there with her on occasion, I figured that I would
just hang out, sort of out the way and hit on some of the nice looking Portland chicks and my then soon to "ex" could do whatever she wanted to do, as I don'r beieve being being obsessive, and hell I never wanted to get married in first palce having already been broke up an packing my stuff to leave town a year earlier in October 1976 after all that bullshit with my old backstabbing buddy Greg.It was during the party that I could see a game awas being ran on me in that all the single girls were steered away from me, by my ex's housemates an being ostracised, a I'm being pointed at made me feel kind of blue, so after about an hour of that crap, I then go to look for Bob so we can get on our way to Washington Park
where there are plenty of young Portland chicks who dig Californians,
especailly those guys from the L.A. area.I then also noticed that as I went into one of the large downstairs rooms seeing my 'ex" all tricked out looking, with many a Bo' around her like Scarlet O'Hara, and me being treated like a Leper with bad-breadth, my natural response wa that of being a bit jealous and blue.What was so weird is that I saw the way in which some eyes around the room were tightly beaded on me and the glee in them, and what was even weirder was that Bob's eye's seemed to be digging the
fact that I seemed bummed out, which really blew my mind because I couldn't see as to how me being made to be the socail pariah of
the party and having my "ex" play the Scarlett O'hara routine with all the guys who looked they were ready to board the choo, choo train should give Bob any kind of pleasure.
We then get into Bob's 1948 vintage Ford Panel truck and I suggest the first place we hit is a spot up in Portland's Washington
Park, a rather large and scenic place, which has places where kid's park their cars and vehicles and meet, makeout, deal drugs, and swap information about parities and such.The eastern edge of Washington Park abuts the City of Portland and is located on the west side of the Willamette River, and of which Burnside avenue so conveniently for Bob and I runs right into the park.
By this time of the night it was starting to rain a considerable bit so Bob, who was driving then turns on the windshield wipers which are powered by an old style pnuematic-pressure and vacuum setup
which uses little rubber hoses leading into what I believe was the the truck's intake manifold.
As we were still on the east side of Portland, driving west towards the Burnside Bridge I immediately noticed that the wiper on on my side of the split windshield wasn't working whereby I couldn't see a thing except blurry illuminate images, streetlights and the lights of on coming cars, unlike Bob's side of the windshield on which the wiper was working most effectively.///////////////Overlap text aboveThere may have been an in dash radio in the old panel truck but I can't say as I recall hearing it as the vehicle tooled down Burnside however it's very possible that Bob had a battery powered portable raido tucked up somewhere in the old vintage panel truck, and I didn't pay it much mind whereas I was still feeling bummed out about Bob talking me into going to a party where I
literally ostracised from all the single girls, s the result of being fingered out as someone's soon to be ex-husband.The whole bogus "party" scene at Karen's and her roomate's place really sucked and brought me down, and so I was especially game to go to real party not some chickenshit, henhouse affair like the one Bob an I just left. Because of this fact I asked Bob
how he was doing having been drinking and smoking pot with me for some time earlier and having seen him drink a bit at the party.Bob said he felt allright and judging by his actions I guess he was at that whereas his voice clear, not slurred, his driving appeared to be cautiuous and steady down the road and his didn't appaear to be to red either. I'm pretty certain that we both used some Visine when we left the party, whereas this was pretty a regular proceedure for most all "pot" smokers since around the early 1970's as I recall.
We had just crossed over the Burnside Bridge, in Bob's panel truck, and were then tooling along with the flow of traffic, and
this kind of perked me up because I knew that many, if not most these cars and vans were heading up to Washington Park to party and hangout,
thereby confirming my earlier party forecast predictions, whereby I could redeem the myself from the indignities incurred at the
little clambake we jut left, and thereby poosibly makeup for it by going to one or possibly several other real parties, where I could enjoy mydelf, get stoned and maybe drag a girl back to Bob' panel truck to have an to hold for about an hoiur or so.As we drove the light to moderate rain was still coming down
and thereby making it almost impossible to seejust about anything
recognizable other than carlights and street lights, we must have been somewhere on Burnside Avenue at about 14th or so, when all of the sudden I see what looks like black cloak cross over my side of the windshield, over to Bob's cleanly wiped side of the windshield whilst, apparently making a thumping sound thereon hood of the old style, 1948 Ford panel truck, which was a good four and half feet or possibly a little more, from the surface of the street.
I immediately reacted by looking over to Bob and asking;
"What was that ?", whereas I wasn't sure if somebody threw some thing at the front of the panel truck or what.
Bob looks out the windshield in a kind of stoic trance for a moment and says nothing, so I ask him; "What's the matter Bob ?"
at which time I am starting to get more than a little worried, what with all the bottles of beer in the truck and the remainder of the quarter ounce of pot I then had in my pocket.
Finally Bob says; "I think I hit someone", in an excited but collected manner. I repond by saying something like; "Oh fuck no, not now, Jesus Chrrrist." "Motherfucker that's just great"If I didn't have cigarette lit then, I sure had one fired up after that, and started taking drags to help calm myself, regain my composure and figure out what can now be done as damage control, to help mitigate the circumstances of the spot we were both in.
I then tell Bob; "Well ya' better stop and pull over."
Bob just sits there staring ahead not saying anything and just keeps driving, I just stare at Bob's face with a look of what must have been increduallity, and wonder. I had started to speak again, when suddenly there was a knock on the window of the driver's door of the truck, then more knocks.
Finally Bob, rolls down the window, and this young guy who looked to be in his early 20's, says in rather loud and somewhat excited voice; "Hey, you hit somebody back there!", "You better pull over
and check it out! The guy was another motorist who was apparently
behind us in the rather heavy Halloween party night traffic.
In response to this, Bob puts on this pretty convincing little act, "What ? Who me ? Noooo" routine, thereby compelling me to put on little phony act of surpise and astonishment
whereby I act just as surprised as Bob, saying stuff like
"Really man, where ?", and at the time I was really glad that I had my then clean shaven face had painted blue and red with big black
horizontal lines whereby it would have been virutally impossible for anyone to recognize or pull my face out of a police line-up
should it come to that.Bob placates the other motorist, the young guy who had been beating at the door window by telling the guy that he was waiting for a good place to pull over, which was plausible as there were cars parked all along curb of Burnside Street where we were at, and that as soon as he can he will pull over and go check and see if
anyone is injured.Bob rolls up the window, and keeps driving with stop and go of the flow of traffic, I then say; "Bob, whadda' doin ?" "We gotta pull over, you just hit somebody! Bob doesen't say a word and keeps driving, I say in amnner of disbelief; "Aren't you gonna stop?"
Still no reponse from Bob. I respond by saying; "Fuck this I'm leaving" and having just left one bummer Halloween Party down the road at Burnside and 39th, I sure wasn't in the mood to stick
around for another God Damn Halloween hit & Run bummer, just because Bob wants to so I can end up in an Oregon pennitentiary.I then told Bob; "I ain't bullshitting", "No shit I'm leaving"
which seemed to kind of freak Bob out a bit, because he then gave me a look of sudden fury and anger and then grabbed my left arm, and being bigger and taller and all I guess he thought he could intimidate me.
My response was one of defiance and anger, and having had to use my wits and threats of physical violence in order to leave many, many a bad situation as longtime hitc-hiker from the mid-1960's until the mid-1970's, ther was no fucking way Bob could khave kept me that van if his life depended on it, whereas he would have ot keep at least one hand on the steering wheel, and in the meantime I would have spun around in the seat and started kicking the fuck right out of face right then and there.As I looked down at Bob's hand on my arm, Bob apparently had a pretty good idea as to what I was gonna do next and staying in the truck wasn't one of 'em.My fierey response combined with the rather fierce looking warpaint design I had on my face must have also had some psychological warfare like impact on Bob as I then turned my own angry gaze and met his eyes, because Bob then let go of my arm in a kind of frustrated resignation, and seemed to come to his senses, whereby I then felt compelled to further advise on the bst course of action.I'm not certain but I think the same motorist or possibly another motorist had once again tapped on Bob's driver side window, whereby Bob then felt he had no choice but ot pull over.I told Bob that I had better get rid of all fo the beer bottles and my stash of pot before the cops come to investigate and write up an accident report, and that I would do this whilst he went over and played the role of rthe concerned and caring motorists which Bob was not, at least when it came to the other guy.So that being the plan, I immedtiately went throught the panel truck and pulled out what was lefet of a 12 pack of Rainier Beer a pretty light beer, kind of like a Coors or perhaps Rolling Rock, and started chucking those puppies right down an a storm drain opening on the curb, and reluctantly tossed in the rest of my quarter ounce of Columbian pot, and then like a little ferret in rabbit warren, went back after the empties that Bob had accumulated in the truck after many a drive home from his construction job and got rid of that incriminating evidence as well.
Whilst I was doing this some Portland local busy body bitch of girl came up beside me and started yelling; "Look, look everybody he throwing beer bottles into the sewer!" repeatedly, yadda, yadda, yadda, and after I had done the deed I then calmly replied in loud voice , "Hey, whadda' mean I don't see any beer bottles, feeling superconfident in the fact that not only was thre no physical evidence left, but also the fact thta my Halloween face paint made it imposible to identify me later, under the circumstances being and dark and rainy night.I then walked over to the accident scene to see if I could help out on the damage control and public relations end of things there,
whereas the key is not to actually be concerned, the key is to put on good act, regardless as to whether one cares or not. Believe it or not I was actually rather concerned, as I was at least at that time in my life generally when it came down to it bleeding heart liberal, who could be at times rather boorish in my ruminations on the subject of humanity if I was stoned, or wired or drunk enough.
When I got to the accident scene I saw Bob talking to a guy who was sitting up on the sidewalk, leaning up against the wall of building talking in surprisingly calm and cogent manner to Bob
my Halloween party partner that night, surrounded by about a half dozen young locals whonow having seen that help was on the way looked as though they wanted to get on their way and resume their quest for some Halloween weekend partying and revelry.needles to say I was mudch relieved that NBob hadn't
Bob was so smooth during this exchange of words with the accident victimwjhich made me kind of wondered if Bob might have had acting lessons and or been a drama student in high school Thespian, (Not a lesbian), like myself.Bob was good too, he didn't overact, he seemed to be using the Strassburg technique of acting most effectively. I kind of wondered why Bob never went into politics or tried to get acting work he was a smoothy and rascal after my own heart I tell you it was like watching a piece of the
movie;,"The Flim, Flam Man" with the late George C. Scott.
I guess I just appeciate good live acting when I see it.To the best of my recollection I recall that the accident victim had only suffered what appeared to be a broken leg, and the guy that Bob hit with his Panel truck seemed uncharacteristically sober and
congenial for someone dressed up in wino garb, and two days beard growth. The man was all dressed in black, in his late 50's or early 60's, not bad looking, of anglo descent and had short grey hair cut rather nicely I thought, even though I was and still am partial to long hair in most cases.////////////////
Our return to the panel truck, and Bob's little change of plansBob reassured the accident victim-"wino" that an ambulance was was sent for, and that he had to move his truck as it partially blocking traffic which wa pretty heavy on Burnside that Halloween weekend Saturday night 1977, whereby he would return before the ambulance arrived to pick him up so he could fill out an accident report.
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My protest at first and then my complicity, by directing evasive manuevers, through the industrial area of NW Portland, and on to I-5 back to home in Vancouver.Bob and I return to the panel truck andhe was mostly silent as went and got in turned the ignition of the panel truck, and took off headed north down the road, when come to spot where Bob can turn left and whip a U-turn, however Bob doesen't do thism instead he keeps going north towards Washington Park, after about a half minute or lees of driving, along with the rest of the flow of traffic.
I must have been slipping there for a moment because I actually believed that Bob was gonnna go back and fill out accident report, which I would have done under th circumstances in light the circumstances and facts involved, the old guy being a wino who and apparently flung himself into the Halloween party night traffic
congestion on Burnside Ave.Not Bob, hethen informs that he was gonna split the scene never to return and that was that, whereby I said sonmething like;
"That's crazy, it'll be hit and run! "Don't do it!" You can pass a sobriety test".In my hometown, Covina and in L.A. the early 1970's I and my friends had passed more than few field sonbriety tests, even though we had been drinking, or had been stoned, we just did some drugs to straighten us up a bit and bingo we passed.
Bob is adament this time and secides he 's not goona stop for nothing and I then light a smoke and try to reason with hims some
more so I say; "Just let me out at the corner and I'll hitch a ride back." Instread Bob just speeds up the truck and says;
"You used to live in Portland, do you know a way out of here ?"
therein a manner which appealed to the "Road Warrior" side of my
brain, and the bit of "Flim, Flam" in me as as well.
I gave his Bob's question serious consideration for a moment, and then realised that I was an acomplice before, during and after the fact to hit and run driving, like or not, and so now I had better find a way to save my own ass as well Bob's.I then considered that many if not possibly most Portlanders had in for Californians, especially those
from the L.A. area and how what have went over in Portland courtroom before a bunch of "old dyed in the wool" locals, ussually little old ladies and squares, prsideing on a jury.I then proceeded to give Bob a series of explicit directions
as to how and best avoid being spotted by any Portland cops in the area, where turned right off Burnside somewhere past 20th St. and I then had Bob snake through the Northwest part of town, which I was somewaht familiar with, as it was then kind of a run down Bohemian Hippie haven, being gentryfied for the late '70's yuppies moving in. I had been through the place numerous times before going to and from work and also over to the "Earth Tavern' on occassion, a young peoples bar.Having went north, we then went northeast on Glisan and other side streets paralleling Lovejoy Ave. and from there I had Bob
jump on the St. Helen's Road, which was, I believe also State Highway 30, and from there we jumped on the Fremont Bridge onramp which led to the northbound Interstate 5 leading to Vancouver, Washington.
During this little flight from the scene of an accident in order to avoid being railroaded in a Portland court, by a Portland jury,
and posibly sentenced to prison by a Portland judge for primarily for being from LA Conty California, I was pretty goddamn nervous and fearfull that we could be pulled over at any moment by the cops,
and taken in.During the drive Bob just kept quite for the most, and we both smoked, and I looked out to the door mirror on my side and towards the rear of the panel truck, beween taking drags off my smoke.Bob then drove the truck over to the house I then shared with
Sigliano, and we both went inside and I regained my composure
and we both told Sigliano about what happened thereon west Burnside after just crossing the bridge, and the accident and our flight.
I then expressed some reservations as to whether or it was a good idea to come back up north in the first place. Bob and I agreed not to tell anyone else about our having went over to Portland what happened over there, that no one else besides Sigliano who we both
trusted, who although was only 20 years old, seemed rather mature
in some ways.
After Bob went home, and Sigliano told me a little about his night, which I believe was on date with some girl at a Halloween party, and which didn't appear to have been a roaring success for
him, whereas Sigliano was home before we were, and didn't have a girl in bedroom.I stayed up, smoking in the living room which also served as my bedroom, amd play the stereo low and just sat there thinking about what a fucked up, miserable as night it was, from the time we arrived in Portland at sometime after 7:00pm until about half past ten, when I got home, plus i had just lost the rest of the quarter ounce of weed I bought earlier that night, which kind of pissed me off, altough I was very gratefull for not having been arrested.
I then recoaunted the whole night's events and how things all started off at Bob's upstairs apartment near downtown Vancouver, when Sigliano and I drove over to get some weed and have a couple of beers, sometime around noon.I then thought how was it that I let Bob talk me into going over to my then soon to be ex-wife's place to attend the Halloween party she and her huousemate friends were throwing, and how Bob and I could have scored some dates there if Karen's roomates weren't making the three witches from "Macbeth", by making to point at me and steer away any of the girls I was trying to hit on, and saying
and pointing; "That's Karen's husband over there, he's a creep." "Stay away from him, he doesn't make much, he's a bum."
Another thing was how come Bob was soo fucking insistant that I attend the Halloween party that Karen and her housemates were throwing in Portland ? Must have have worked me for over an hour and a half, what made that particular party so obsessively interesting to Bob ?I kept saying; "Bob, fuck that place, her roommates are bitches"
"Let's check out Washington Park, that a place where we can find out where lots of parties are, if we dont' hit on some chicks already to go right there. But noooooo, Bob has to keep nagging and nagging so I said fuck it and got us invited in spite of my reservations.Where did Bob go whilst he was over there at th party I lost track of him for about 20 minutes or so ?
Why couldn't we have checke out my the n wife' party after we had already checked out the locations of other parties up in Washinhgton Park ?How was it that the winshield wiper only worke on Bob's side of the windshield, but not on my side so that I couldn't see a fucking thing in the rain ?
How was it that of all the hundreds of cars and trucks heading up Burnside towards Washinigton Park to party it had to Bob' panel truck in which I was a passenger, that some clown come flying out of nowhere to get hit by Bob Panel truck ?
How in the fuck did the guy Bob hit in traffic end rolliung over the top of the hood of the Bob's 1948 Ford 3/4 ton panel truck., when the top of hood must have been a good four and a half feet aboive the surface the pavement ?If Bob actually hit the "wino" guy then how iwas it that
he didn't get pulled down under and then rolled over ?
The guy was only 6'-1" ofr 6'-2" at the most, and th top of his head must cleared the top of th hood by only 18" or so.And another thing, how was it that in spite of the fact that
the wiper blade was working on my side of the windshield, tht I seem to recall seeing a black blur actually blot out th glare of the oncoming headlights and streetlamps for a split second, when I then heard the sound of thumping on the hood of Bob's panel truck ?Another thing how there weren't any cops thta showed up at the accident site ? Hell When I used to work at City Rubber Stamp just down the steet and off Burnside from October 1976 until early February 1977, there used to be lots of cops hanging out around the topless bar we would sometimes go to on our lunch breaks, there should have been a couple left around there as each year Halloween partiers would clog Burnside street en route to Washington Park.I guess it' plausible that no one decided to stick around and
wait for the cops, and or write down the license plate number of Bob's panel truck ?
There is also the fact that when I got to where the injured wino was sitting with a half dozen or locals looking on, I
presumed these folks were witneses but no one said a word or gave any kind of comments as to how this so called accident actually occurred between themselve or to Bob at least as far as I could see after cleaning out the panel truck.I then think that I should wait and see what if anything arises from this little tuck and pedestrian accident, therein the following weeks before I try to come to any solid conclusions yet here was another little weird bit of business which reminded me of some eight months earlier when I worked when I was living in Southeast Portland having just got seeparated from Karen my wife in mid-February 1977
and how I was under intensive surveillance. I would just have to
let the matter rest for the time being.I would interanlize this
like I did Spud Helberg's murder in June of 1971, who I saved along with myself a beating by coming up with the door blockade idea,
whereby Spud was later murdered after we took down the blockade and
murderer-L.A. Sheriff's snitch Gary Johnson came back with Robbie Huhn to murder Spoud after I left. Followed up two years later
whren "Spud's" snakey bitch girlfriend accuses me of involvenent
in his murder, during an ambush at the W=est Covina Courts when in fact I had already save "Spud's" ass once and already left the jpouse long before johnson and Huhn returned to murder "Spud".Was the whole
night a carefully planned night of events to carefully chart all of emotional responses to various kinds of stimuli.
* Kind a CIA - Gittinger personality profile deal.
III
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Pt 8 Sub Part 3
Move To My Own Apartment In Vancouver --- The Hunting Accident 'Hit' On FBI Internal Security Chief Sullivan --- 'The Prisoner' Airs On Local PBS T.V. --- Weekends In Portland With The 'Ex' & Kid --- March '78 -- 'Spring Laid-Off' After Asking For A Raise --- My Restaurant Job In Downtown Vancouver --- An Informant 'Plant'
Working Construction All Winter In Washington Rain & Snow --- My Own Place In Vancouver By Mid-November '77--- Weekends In Portland With The Ex & My Infant Son --- Visiting Other L.A. Ex Patriots In Vancouver --- March '78 Lay Off --- 'Chuck' The Police Informant & Suspicious Presence Of A Former Co-worker From Celanese, October 1975 - Only Minutes Before --- Restaurant Job At 'The Wagon Wheel' in Vancouver By Late March '78 --- The Health Food Store In Portland By Mid-April '78
IV
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Pt 8 Sub Part 4
A New Job At Pilgrim's Natural Foods In Portland --- The April -Nuke Rally --- Apparently Part Of Some Photo 'Frame-up The Week Before President Carter's May '78 --- The Attempted 'Pot Bust' That Went Bust In Vancouver The Following Week --- My Fellow Inmates O'Brien & Benny, My Card Playing Partners Behind Bars
News Photos Of Me At The April 1978 Anti-Nuke At River Front Park --- The Site Of Even More Anti-Nuke Protesters In Portland Against President Carter The Following Week --- The Japanese Prime Minister Comes To Portland As I Return To Vancouver
Interstate 5 Closed For The Japanese Motorcade --- As My Bus Makes For Vancouver May '78 --- Police Raid, Attempted / 'Pot Bust' Goes Bust --- Cellmates-Police Informants at Clark County Jail ---
V
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Pt 8 Sub Part 5
My The Weekend With The Ex --- Memorial Day Weekend In Northern Cal & Stop Over In Yreka, My Plan To Hide Out And Work There Summer 1978 In The Peace & Quiet Of Some Obscure Rural Berg Northern Cal --- Get Some Perspective On My Situation Outside Of Portland & Vancouver
Memorial Day Weekend '78 Visit To Yreka To Set Things-up For My Return --- Trinity Forest Near Redding To Camp Out Before Packing It In Portland
Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3 --- Part 4 --- Part 5 --- Part 6 --- Part 7
