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CHAPTER FOUR - I GO ON THE LAM
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I spent the next several days in the apartment making plans for my disappearance. The first thing that I did was break up with my girl friend, which I wasn't happy about doing, but I remembered what happened with my wife and felt that for her own protection it would be best. I then took what few processions I had accumulated and sold them to a local thrift store and then moved to a small trailer on the west side of town. I stayed there for about a month and then packed my backpack and caught a bus to Phoenix, Arizona, where I made sure that I was arrested in the bus station by a Phoenix police officer on an old traffic ticket. When I arrived at the holding cell at the Phoenix police department I called my sister and had her drive to Phoenix to pick me up and pay the fines with money that I had left with her for this purpose. She then drove me back to Tucson where I spent the night at her home.
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The following morning I said my goodbyes and struck out to the edge of town and across the desert, traveling toward San Diego by night. It took me about a week to get there and once there I headed toward Los Angeles via the Coastal Highway. I arrived in L.A. almost three weeks after leaving Tucson.
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When I got to Los Angeles I spent my first night in town in a shelter for the homeless. This in itself was an experience that one could write several books about. Upon my arrival at the shelter it became a slow and tedious process of hurry up and wait. In order to get a meal you had to wait for several hours in the waiting room until they past out tickets for you to eat. Then you had to wait several more hours before they opened the dinning room for you to enter. Once you entered the dining room and went through the line to eat the simple meal (it wasn't mom's home cooking, but if you were hungry, it was good) you then went back out into the waiting room and waited for them to pass out more tickets for you to get a place to sleep for the night.
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The waiting was a pain, but I soon found by watching others that if you did wait you didn't eat and you did get a place to sleep for the night. By this time I was feeling fairly depressed and wasn't about to sleep outside another night. I needed a shower, which, as it turned out, was obligatory, along with a free louse inspection and spraying if it was found that you were carrying uninvited guest, and I needed time to think out my next move.
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It always seems that during the hardest times in my life I always turn to God. Not because I am overly zealous as a believer, but more because I do seem to get a certain amount of comfort from him during the most difficult times of my life, and sometimes I even get inspiration. I cannot and will not say whether or not it comes from God, but when I need it the most the help seems to appear only after I have done some serious praying. Such was the case this time. As I lay there praying quietly to myself, a rather forlorn and skinny looking fellow in the bed next to me looked over and said, "if you need a place to stay and hid for a while, why don't you go check out the Hudson House".
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It never occurred to me at the time, that this might have been a message from the man upstairs, but it certainly was an answer to my prayers. I thanked the fellow and went to sleep feeling much better about the events of the past several weeks.
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The next morning I woke up and went down to the free breakfast that they gave to all of the overnighters as we were called and then packed my kit and found a pay phone. I called the office of Social Services in L.A. and inquired about the Hudson House, and obtained the phone number. I then called and was told that there was one opening at House number one and given direction to the place.
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I had just enough money to take a L.A. Bus to the location of house number one which to my delight was just one block down from Grauman's Chinese Theater and the heart of. The house was located on Franklin Avenue.
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When I arrived I was met at the door by a fellow who I shall refer to as Robert. The reason I am changing this young man's name will become obvious in a moment. When I came into the house I was escorted to the dinning room area and invited to sit down and fill out the necessary forms, which seemed fairly standard in a situation like this. The rules of Hudson House were explained to me. For the first two weeks there I was obligated to travel out with several other members of the house to solicit donations from the outlying communities for the American Missions Association, which sponsored the operations of the Hudson Houses.
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At the end of the two week period I would then be allowed time to go out and find a job in the local community and I would agree to pay the Hudson House operation $200.00 per week for room and board. Under the circumstances this seemed fairly reasonable to me and as I filled out the paperwork I thought that perhaps this would be the ideal situation for a while, then I would move on again once I was able to establish myself a little bit of a nest egg. What came next was more than just a little bit of a surprise.
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As I sat there filling out the paperwork I came across a form that at first seemed innocuous until I looked at the bottom of it. Printed there were the letters G, B, S, and the instructions to circle one. Not understanding what it meant I asked Bob and he told me that it meant Gay, Bi-sexual, or Straight. I didn't think anything more of it at that moment thinking that it was California and the people that lived there were a bit different to begin with so I circled S since I was neither of the first two (here comes the kicker gang). When I circled the S Bob got a funny look on his face and started to hem and hah a little bit.
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Finally he looked at me and said that there was a problem. "Oh?", says I. "What kind of a problem is that?" Hudson House is a halfway house for Gays . . .. "OOOOK!" I think to myself.
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I must have turned white or something, because Bob tried to be as nice as he could, and you have to bear in mind that all of this took place within a matter of milliseconds. Thinking fast, I looked him dead in the eye and said, "I don't have a problem with that if you don't".
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After several minutes of discussion with Bob, I assured him that I had nothing against Gays and would respect them and their lifestyle if they accorded me the same respect. Besides, I told him, I needed a place to live and more or less get my collective shit together and currently this was the best offer in town. After making a few phone calls to the administrators of the operation he agreed to give it a try for a while to see how things went.
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(Ann Landers¬Oµ§¦W¡M¬O50¡N60¦~¥NªÛ¥[ô¤Ó¶§³ø¡MµÛ¦Wªº¬°ÅʤH´£¨Ñ©¾§i«t¸ßªº±MÄæ¡M«Ü¦h³ø¯ÈÂà¸ü¡M¥þ°êª¾¦W¡M³oµ§¦WÅܦ¨¡§ÅʤHÅU°Ý¡¨¥N¦Wµü)
I could write a book about the following three months. It was an experience that I shall never forget, and believe it or not, one that I shall remember with a certain amount of fondness. I learned a great deal, and many of those lessons have helped me considerably since then. I will say this, however. There is nothing stranger than to have a gay in love with another gay come to you and ask advice about what he, or for that matter, she, should do to win over the other. By the time I left, they were referring to me as "Papa Bear", the "Ann Landers" of the Gay World (What a distinction!).
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I lived at the Hudson House in L.A. for about three months, during which time I did my two weeks of service and was then allowed to go out and seek employment. Using the services provided by the organization, I found a job working at a restaurant that was owned, operated, and frequented by gays in the local community, as a fry cook at $5.00 and hour.
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It wasn't the greatest paying job in the world, but it allowed me the opportunity to support myself and at the same time save enough money to begin phase two of my now established plan. I must admit that being more or less an observer of life, I enjoyed the real life drama that was taking place around me. One of these days, if I ever get to the point where I can stop being a UFO Investigator, I might sit down and write several books about the incidents. In many respects, I doubt seriously that you could go through much of that without splitting your sides in laughter.
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At the end of three months I had managed to save enough money to begin phase two, which was to leave California without notice and head eastward to the farm my mother had bought several years previously in Virginia, and where she had recently moved when she and my step father had retired. During the second week in November, just after I got my pay check from the restaurant, I informed the managers that I was quitting without notice. I then went back to the Hudson House and packed my bags telling everyone that I had to return to Arizona for an emergency in the family and walked to the bus station where I then caught a bus for Virginia. |