Bob Burford - Part VI

 Life in San Francisco was interesting, to say the least. And quite enjoyable. Vicki and Monica and Suzanne were all three unique in their own ways. There were no complications. None. We just lived life as it came at us, enjoying what we had, and having a lot of fun in the process.

That all came to a screeching halt one Saturday morning as I was having my first cup of coffee when I got a telephone call from a friend of mine, Glenn Robinson, a Federal Marshal at that time who eventually became head of the Federal Marshal’s office in San Francisco. He was a great jazz piano player. Very hip. He would call me occasionally and we’d go see a movie. If he heard of a movie with a good sound track, we’d go hear it. I assumed that’s why he was calling; to get together to go hear a movie. Not so. Not at all.

When he asked me if I was okay, just by the way he asked it I knew something was up. As it turns out, he called to let me know that a hit list had crossed his desk and my name was on it. There were some serious union problems in San Francisco and I was smack dab in the middle of it. The unions organized a demonstration and consequently the head of the Longshoremen’s Union got locked up. Leon Olson, the president of the typographical union got locked up along with Arnold Sears, the business manager of that union. And they blamed me for it. The Independent Journal in San Rafael was on strike and things had gotten really ugly.

The NLRB or federal magistrate overseeing the strike limited the union to station two pickets at each of the paper’s three entrances, nine hours a day, Monday through Friday. The union’s 1250 members were given the option of picketing two hours per week or paying a fine every week. Obviously, that ain’t gonna fly given the limited number of hours the union was allowed to picket. So I didn’t like either option and, basically, told the union to stick it. A special general membership meeting was scheduled for a Sunday, the purpose of which was to make an example of me. That blew up in their faces in grand style. At the meeting, the president of the union actually uttered these words: “You’re taking advantage of the union’s rules and bylaws!” To which I replied, “Goddam right I am and there ain’t shit you can do about it!” 

That was like opening the flood gates. It went from me being the union’s lone dissenter to suddenly 850 union members in full rebellion. And that number rapidly increased with each passing day. So, from that point on, I got blamed for everything bad that happened.

I was correct in thinking there wasn’t anything the union could do about the situation. Legally speaking, of course. I wasn’t considering their option of doing something illegal. And that takes this story back to a phone call from a Federal Marshal one Saturday morning. Glenn Robinson was well aware of the violence in all its various forms associated with this strike, so he took seriously my name being found on a hit list. 

Shorty, the composing room foreman at the Independent Journal, had his house fire-bombed in the middle of the night. One night in San Francisco a couple of guys showed up at the house of the guy whose job was to keep all of the equipment running at the Independent Journal. They took him into the living room and killed him. They took his very pregnant wife into the kitchen and beat her so badly she wound up in the hospital fighting for her life. Of course, the baby didn’t survive.

So Glenn Robinson, my Federal Marshal buddy, told me that a couple of guys had been arrested in Louisiana and among other incriminating evidence was a hit list with my name on it. Although the Federal Marshals didn’t have anything officially to do with the union problems, that hit list with obvious San Francisco connections and federal implications had crossed his desk as an advisory. The typographers’ union had recruited a couple of thugs in the mailers’ union to murder the people on the hit list. Going through the list I discovered that the name of a good friend, Chet Plewa, was also on the list. He was a salesman for Mergenthaler Linotype and his fatal sin that qualified him for inclusion on the hit list was selling typesetting and printing equipment to the Independent Journal. For that he was on a hit list to be murdered. 

So, as soon as I got off the phone with Glenn, I called Chet to give him a heads up. He had spent years teaching the graphic arts/printing trade at Boys Town in Iowa. As far as I know, he and his wife, Jess, packed up and headed back to the safety of Boys Town and Iowa.

And me? I hastily ended my affairs in the Bay Area, packed up and moved to Reno where all of my union problems came to a screeching halt in one telephone call. Wanting to avoid any more union problems, I called the secretary of the Reno local, introduced myself, and told him I needed to transfer into the local. He told me that he recognized my name, knew all about me, and to forget the union. “You leave us alone,” he said, “and we’ll leave you alone.” And for me, at least, that’s the way it ended.

Here is a bit that I found from KQED. KQED News report from July 27th 1970 in San Rafael (Marin County, California), featuring views of a march in support of the San Francisco Typographical Union Local 21 which went on strike at the Marin Independent Journal in January 1970, in a dispute marked by riots, vandalism, firebombings and murder. Note that this labor dispute dragged on until fall 1971, when the union lost an election at the paper. United Farm Workers (UFW) and International Longshore & Warehouse Union (ILWU) can be seen taking part in the march.

Tuesday, November 5, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once at 4am, finally waking/getting up at 6:15.

Well, finally, today is election day in the US. Although we probably won’t know for sure who won until the weekend, we might get some indication tonight.

I have my urology appointment in a couple weeks and since Jose isn’t available today, I decided to go for my annual full panel blood test.

At 7:15 I ordered a Didi but when it “expanded their search” I cancelled it and left the apt. The peanut was gone next to the bird feeder so I replaced it. I had the pedestrian light to cross to Smartfit and there was a Sabaneta bus waiting at the light. I got on and as expected it was standing room only.

I got out at the light a block from Calle 7 and walked to the Cedimed office. I handed my doctor’s order to the ladies outside the waiting room. I didn’t understand what they asked me but my answer of “no caballos, no bicicletas y no sexo” seemed to satisfy them. I said, “no es mi primero rodeo” and they laughed and told me to take a seat and listen for my name.

It was about a 10-minute wait to pay 330,800 pesos ($75) and they gave me a urine cup and asked me to take a seat. It was only a 5-minute wait for my name to be called. The phlebotomist guided me to the back where she drew 2 vials of blood. She put on their typical little round patch over the draw site and I handed her a band-aid to put over that. She told me my test results should be available online by 7pm tonight. This time I didn’t wait in the waiting room I just headed out. It was a 2 short blocks and 1 long block to Parmessano where I had French toast and a latte for 35mil ($8).

Across the street it was a short wait for a Sabaneta bus to take me back to Envigado. I got off at the light at Calle 30 and in the park I replaced the missing peanut then took a seat in Los Portenos. I had a latte while solving a few chess puzzles. The guy with the 4 little noisy dogs on leashes and one without a leash came by.

I left at 10:45, paid our DirectTV bill in Gana and returned to the apt. Teresa returned at 11:45 and informed me she saw IKEA with a girlfriend and she found a storage container for our shoes.

I received an email from Inter-Col regarding the status of my Visa and it’s on step 4, “under study”.

I received a text from our realtor Alcala that (translated) ‘”o date, it has a balance of 91,244 pesos, referring to the annual increase in the rental fee”. Not sure what that means.

I left the apt at 2:15 and walked to the mall. I recycled a pill bottle then walked through the garage and found the exit escalator closest to Urbania. I went upstairs to the 2^nd floor and took a seat in Santa Leña. I had a latte while doing a few chess puzzles from my book. Teresa called and asked me to pick up a package of cotton in Dollar City and Chinese rice in Exito. I left at 4pm, waited in a long but quickly moving line in Dollar City then took the back way to Exito. I looked in the rice aisle but didn’t see anything other than normal white rice. I finally found an Exito employee and while trying to ask her for what I was looking for, a gringo asked if he could help. I explained and we agreed you don’t buy Chinese rice, you make Chinese rice.

I picked up a large bag of toilet paper rolls and returned to the apt by taxi.

I logged into the Cedimed website but I guess my test results aren’t ready yet. I’ll try again tomorrow.

I watched the news, switching between CNN and MSNBC, finally going to bed at 11pm.

 

IN HONOR OF IKEA

Monday, November 4, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once at 5am, finally waking/getting up at 7am.

Today is a holiday, All Saints Day.

J.W., one of my blog readers. is planning on moving to Mexico but he’ll have a budget that will allow him to travel so maybe, after all these years, we’ll finally get meet.

(I forgot to mention yesterday, on my way to meet Glenn, I found a tree around the corner from our complex that had a makeshift bird feeder in it. I put a peanut in a nearby crook. Also, I ran into Matt walking his three large dogs.)

I left the apt at 8:30, noticed the tree I had put the peanut in yesterday was gone (the peanut not the tree) so I left another one.

In Smartfit I completed my workout using my previous maximum weight including 10 minutes on the treadmill. I’ll do this for a few weeks then maybe increase the weight a little.

I had a latte in Ganso y Castor for about 90 minutes. The peanut was missing in both trees so I put another peanut in the one furthest from the restaurant.

I stopped in Ara on my way back to the apt to pick up a few things. Difficult to do with all I was carrying but I had brought a plastic bag with me.

Teresa changed her mind and she wants to go to Mama Panda in Laureles for Chinese food.

We left the apt at 12:30 and took a Didi to Mama Panda in Laureles. This driver turned a block earlier than before and dropped us off right across the street from Mercado de Laureles. I guided Teresa up to the 3^rd floor and she chose a table in the front next to the Jumbotron.

Teresa ordered chicken with rice and a Coke. I ordered teriyaki chicken with a smoothie.

My meat had three pieces of tendon or something that couldn’t be eaten but otherwise was pretty good. For dessert we shared a funnel cake with peaches, strawberries and whipped cream and we each had a latte.

The check with tip came to 130,150 pesos ($30). We had a nice chat with Andrew, the owner. He says he does a good business on NFL game days. Some guys even come for the early game and stay for lunch, supper, and drinks until closing.

We walked six blocks west to Exito Laureles where Teresa bought a few things on sale in Medipiel.

I ordered a Didi and it showed an address instead of Exito Laureles. (I had the opportunity to change it but didn’t.) Our ride was coming from the north so we used the bridge to cross over to the other side. Our ride was in the far lane and didn’t slow down as I tried to wave him down. (Hard to see a license plate from any distance.) We had to cross the busy street again and finally caught our ride. The driver surprised me when he passed Ave Las Vegas and continued on to Ave Poblado. (I give the app the benefit of the doubt as it probably knew something was not good about traffic on Ave Las Vegas.) We arrived at our complex in a few raindrops which soon turned into a downpour which turned into an on and off drizzle that ended just before I went to bed at 10pm.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

My bold 2024 election prediction:

In my opinion, Donald John “Barron” Trump is a conman, a loser, and a despicable excuse for a human being. Four years ago, 81,000,000 Americans fired his a$$, obviously he didn’t take the hint, so I guess they’ll have to do it again.

270 Electoral College votes are needed to win and I believe Kamala Harris will have about 300 but there will be a number of states that will be very close. I’m wondering when DJT will declare victory; what’s the over/under for midnight?

Now, if you haven’t already, get out there and vote!

 

IN HONOR OF IKEA

Sunday, November 3, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once at 6am, finally waking/getting up at 7am.

I left the apt at 8:30 and walked to Sao Paulo Plaza where Glenn with Bianca soon joined me in Olivenza. I gave him my condolences for the Yankees losing to the Dodgers in the World Series. I asked his opinion on how much a gringo moving here should have for monthly expenses. He said $2500 a month and he informed me he keeps a detailed spreadsheet of his daily expenses and he spends 50,000 pesos a day on food. 50,000 x 31 days = 1,550,000 COP/month or (using a CER of 4000COP/USD) = $387.50.

He thinks I can get Claro unlimited data for our cellphones for about 80mil a month.

I think I may have trapped ONEIPAMETATO1453’s queen. I should know in the next few moves.

I left at 10:30 and walked back to the apt.

We were planning on going to a restaurant in Provenza for lunch but then it got a little overcast and a little breezy, both indicators there might be rain this afternoon.

I found another note from Bob Burford so I posted it right away. He had a very interesting life but I think the only thing we have in common is we’re both O Negative.

Teresa suggested we invite Glenn over for a Thanksgiving Day dinner. I texted him and he accepted.

I watched NFL Redzone while waiting for the Bears game to start.

I trapped ONEIPAMETATO1453’s queen and he resigned on the 22^nd move increasing my rating to 1608.

I ate some peanuts (original bag is still fresh) and drank a Coke while watching the Bears game. I did not enjoy watching the Bears get dismantled by the Cardinals 29-9. How underwhelming that was!

Jose has a doctor’s appointment so instead of playing chess on Tuesday I think I’ll get my blood test done a week earlier than I had planned.

Teresa wants to go to El Tesoro tomorrow and have lunch there.

I spent the evening trying to watch the news but had to switch between CNN and MSNBC as buffering appeared.

We had a little rain in the evening and it had almost ended by the time I went to bed at 10pm.

 

IN HONOR OF IKEA

Bob Burford - Part V

 I spent most of my time in Las Vegas playing at the Tropicana Hotel and Casino. A typical job was three sets with an hour break between shows. I was told by people who would know that if you live in Vegas, you do not gamble. I subscribed to that wisdom. So, every night I found myself with two hour-long breaks with nothing to do but hang out in the casino and people watch. 

It didn’t take long to become very much at home in the casino. I began to see familiar faces and they also recognized me. Eye contact soon became a nod, became a “hello,” became an introduction, became conversations. That’s how my relationship with Monica began. I noticed her frequently sitting in one of the lounges off the lobby. And she was always sitting by herself. She was from the Basque region of Spain and was stunningly gorgeous. And she exuded class. Lots of class. She obviously did not have any money problems.

So we would sit and visit over a cocktail ... at her invitation. She was easy to be with, totally comfortable in her own skin. No pretense whatsoever. Well-informed, literate, and smart as hell. She told me, totally unabashedly, that she was being kept by a wealthy doctor. She didn’t have an expense that wasn’t paid for with the doctor’s credit card. One of her other perks was a new Corvette. She was free to come and go at will. Her only obligation was to be available to hang on his arm whenever he visited Vegas. That was all covered in a conversation we had in a single break one night. The subject of her lifestyle was never broached again. 

It’s too easy to forget that at that time Las Vegas was run by the Mafia. It was probably the safest city of its size in the entire world. The Mafia didn’t take kindly to anyone who would cause anything negative to be published about the city. It was kinda startling when she told me one evening that the doctor would soon be asking her about this guy she’s spending time with in the cocktail lounge at the Tropicana. That would be me. Obviously, he kept a real tight rein on her. I took from that that the doctor had mob connections. I also took from that that the doctor most likely was something other than a doctor.

Fast forward a couple of months.

I left Las Vegas and moved to the San Francisco Bay area, specifically to the San Francisco Chronicle, my all-time favorite newspaper. I had a house on top of the mountain at the end of Fassler Drive in Pacifica (20 minutes south of The City) overlooking Rockaway Beach and the Pacific. I was a couple hundred yards shy of sitting right on top of the San Andreas Fault. 

It was an ideal location, great view of the Faralons, an easy drive into The City. One of my favorite things to do in the evening was go to the El Matador jazz club in North Beach where Cal Tjader regularly appeared. For a short while he had Al Zulaika, a piano player, with him who I particularly enjoyed. When Cal wasn’t playing I’d find any number of other major world-class jazz players holding court. 

The entrance to the club opened out onto the sidewalk. How pedestrians passing by don’t get hit is a mystery. So, I was leaving the club one night, pushed the exit door open, and ran into a woman. Physically. Literally bumped into her. As I was about to apologize, I was shocked to recognize the woman. It was Monica! from Las Vegas. What the hell?!

We crossed the street and walked down the block to a fairly nice restaurant where we had a late-night snack and caught up on what’s been going on. Of course, the big question for her was: What the hell are you doing here? Although she didn’t get into specifics, something not good had gone down in Vegas and she had to get the hell out of Dodge. Her life as she knew it no longer existed. She had no plans whatsoever. She was ad libbing her life one step at a time. Getting out of Vegas was the first step, of course. In her conversations with me back at the Tropicana, she got the idea that San Francisco seemed like a good place to go. So she packed her shit in her Corvette and headed for San Francisco. She assured me that she was not being hunted by the Mafia.

Since she hadn’t checked into a hotel yet, and given that she had no plans, I invited her home with me. I gave her keys to the house and told her to come and go as she pleased. And she did just that. It was a great arrangement. She was totally independent and way low maintenance. She would disappear without a word and stay gone for the night or a few days or a couple of weeks. I would wake up in the morning and find her sound asleep on the other side of the bed. I had another well-appointed master suite also complete with a California king bed but, for whatever reason, she chose to ignore it. That was our lifestyle for quite some time.

This is where the story gets bifurcated. I met a girl. Actually, I met two girls. One was Vicki, a tall drop-dead-gorgeous blonde who always looked like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her best friend was Suzanne, a drop-dead gorgeous Sicilian. They, too, came and went at will. Sometimes I would wake up and find Vicki on the other side of the bed. Sometimes I would wake up and find Suzanne. And at other times I would wake up to find Monica sound asleep.

This is where it gets kinda dicey. Vicki and I had been out late and decided to go home and crash. I crawled into bed and was instantly out like a light. I woke up to Vicki screaming like a banshee in the middle of a manic episode. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” she was screaming. What had her upset was waking up to find that sometime during the night Monica had come home and crawled into bed with us, as was her routine. Monica was awake, of course, just as cool as a cucumber, completely detached, not a stitch on, sitting back casually watching Vicki lose her mind. I finally got Vicki to calm down enough so that I could explain the situation. Eventually, she got back into bed and life was peaceful again. I left the two of them there and went to take a shower. I got dressed and walked out of the bedroom to find them in the kitchen cooking breakfast, having a helluva good time.

There was another time that Vicki woke me up screeching like a banshee. The librarian at school (Lincoln University School of Law) had an emergency and rushed to the hospital. I got a call from the school’s registrar asking me to go to the Red Cross and donate some blood for him, which I did. Now the Red Cross has my phone number. Fast forward a few weeks and I get a call in the middle of the night from the Red Cross. My blood type is O-negative, which means they can take my blood and give it directly to anybody else. An open-heart surgery and a baby transfer created an urgent need for blood. 

So I got out of bed, went to the clinic where they relieved me of some blood. They put a patch on my arm and sent me home where I got back into bed beside Vicki. The next thing I know Vicki is screeching at the top of her lungs. Standing beside the bed, eyes wide like saucers, pointing at the bed. A huge puddle of blood. The bandage had come off my arm and I bled all over. Of course, Vicki didn’t know what to think. For whatever reason she assumed I had mainlined some drugs and caused the mess. Of course, she was oblivious to my Red Cross adventure in the middle of the night. 

Other than the occasional little such surprises, though, life was completely grand.

Saturday, November 2, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, waking/getting up at 6:15.

We’re almost out of eggs so I guess I’ll be making a trip to the mall this morning.

I messed up the opening of my newest game against ONEIPAMETATO1453 and lost a pawn so I guess I’ll have a fight on my hands.

If I haven’t mentioned it before, for the record, my lesions are back.

I left the apt at 8:30 and on my walk to the mall I saw this sign, not for the first time

After taking this photo, I remembered I have a new camera option on google translate. I took it out and it easily translated it to this

Cool!

I had a latte in Urbania. I left at 11am and stopped in Medipiel to see if they had my skin cream on sale. As I entered, a girl greeted me and I asked if they had a promotion today. Yes, they do. I showed her the photo of my skin cream and asked if it was on sale. She looked in a drawer then disappeared into their back room. She came out and there were 5 girls standing behind the cash register for one customer who was checking out. After 5 minutes I gave up and walked out.

I took the shortcut through the garage to Exito’s back entrance, bought a large carton of eggs and returned to the apt by taxi.

Teresa and I spent the afternoon finishing the 6-episode series, The Trials of Gabriel Fernandez (8.1) on Netflix. Then we looked at the trailer for the movie Laura is currently watching called Don’t Move (5.8).

For my blog readers:

Again, I don’t “friend” just anyone on FB that suggests it but if you’re one of my readers just leave a message on my blog and I’ll be happy to friend you next time you ask.

J.W., I see no evidence of drought in Medellin. Also, I believe a single person, maybe even a couple, should be able to live comfortably here on, oh, maybe $2000-$2500 a month. I’ll ask my friend Glenn for his opinion.

 

IN HONOR OF IKEA

Friday, November 1, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once during the night, finally waking/getting up at 6am.

The street is a little wet so it’s obvious we had a some rain overnight.

I left the apt at 8:15 and completed my workout in Smartfit. Monday I’ll move my weights up to my previous maximum and we’ll see how it goes.

I had a latte in Ganso y Castor for about 90 minutes. The peanut was still there in the furthest tree but the one closest to the restaurant was missing so I replaced it.

Teresa called and asked me to buy a bag of potatoes on my way back to the apt but I reminded her I don’t have extra cash with me.

Troyclough resigned our game on the 24^th move increasing my rating to 1604. (My last 10 games I have 9 wins and 1 draw. 😊)

I checked a number of hotels near the US Embassy (Cr 45 #24B-27) in Bogota for December 12-14^th. Both appear to be close to the embassy, have free airport shuttle, free WiFi, fitness center, and a restaurant. Breakfast included? Not sure.

·     Wyndham Bogota (8.9) – 820,820 COP ($195)

·     Hilton Double Tree Salitre (8.7) – 767,600 ($183).

Cool afternoon, only 74 degrees at 1pm with a few sprinkles so I didn’t venture out.

We finished watching Monsters (7.8) then watched the first two episodes of The Trials of Gabriel Fernandez (8.1).

I finished reading my paperback Code Girls by Liza Mundy.

I’ve recently read that melatonin should be taken for a short period of time so I’m gone to try to wean myself off of them over the next few months.

 

IN HONOR OF IKEA