I’ve decided it’s time to come clean and admit that I’m a jail bird–an ex-con. That’s correct, in 1973 I did a stretch of six hours of hard jail time at the Redondo Beach Police Department. I was charged and pleaded guilty to the misdemeanor crime of malicious mischief. In other words, I did something incredibly stupid. It was a Friday night and one of my best friends and I were headed to the Red Onion Restaurant for an evening of frivolity. If your goal was to meet attractive women and dance the night away, the Onion proved far superior to their competition throughout the South Bay. It was usually our first stop on a nightly tour of local establishments where you could consume a few adult beverages, socialize and dance with lovely young ladies. Lenny proved the perfect companion for these excursions for the simple reason that he could nurse a beer for hours, remaining sober, and didn’t mind driving. We arrived at the Onion about 9:30 p.m. As was our custom, we parked in the lot next to the restaurant. I had learned a way to park for free from a friend, avoiding the $2 fee for entrance into the lot. When paying your fee in the machine a wooden arm would rise allowing the car in. If you had a small car (Lenny drove an MG sports car), a person could pull back the arm slowly and carefully, and the auto could slip in on the right side. We had pulled this maneuver five or six times with no snags. I know what you’re thinking, but I was in college and two bucks was a huge chunk out of my meager entertainment budget. As he pulled up to the entrance, I jumped out, grabbed the slender piece of wood and carefully pulled it back. Lenny swerved his MG around the side and sailed in unscathed. While he searched for a parking space I returned the arm gradually to its original position. Another successful mission. When I turned to join my friend, I heard three short horn beeps. Looking back I spotted another car at the entrance. Inside sat two very cute blonde girls smiling and pointing at the parking arm, asking me to do the same for them. How could I refuse? I returned to the arm and attempted the same trick I had just successfully pulled off.
Unfortunately, they had a much larger car, requiring me to pull the fragile piece of lumber further. The flimsy board snapped like a twig. The ladies pulled in, rolled down their window and shouted, “See you inside.” While tossing the piece of brightly painted wood aside, I remember thinking, great, I’ve already met two people and they are beautiful blonde chicks! I caught site of Lenny on the far side of the lot and waved. As I began walking to meet up with him, someone forcefully grabbed my arm and ordered, “Come with me!” Before I could speak, the burly thug who was squeezing my upper arm began semi-dragging me toward a car in the corner of the lot. He then made it crystal clear what my next move would be. “I’m officer Tuttle with the Redondo Beach Police Department, working off duty for the company who owns this parking lot. Someone has been breaking these parking arms off regularly and they hired me to find the jerk. Looks like I caught the culprit.” I protested, “No, this is the first time…” “Shut up and quit whining!” I shut up. By this time Lenny had arrived and asked me what happened. The officer answered for me. “Get your ass inside or you’re goin’ to jail with him!” He dutifully turned and walked toward the front door. I was going to jail? What for, breaking a five-dollar piece of cheap lumber? Very respectfully I asked, “Sir, can’t I just pay for the damage now? Why is it necessary to take me to jail? I can pay for it,” I begged as I reached for my wallet. “Turn around and shut your trap!” Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I stopped talking, turned around, was swiftly handcuffed and read my constitutional rights. This no-nonsense officer then put me in the back of his car and drove me the short distance to the Redondo Beach PD. There I was fingerprinted and placed in a cell with a guy who had broken a window at his girlfriend’s house for some stupid reason. There we sat, two young fools, wondering what the hell had just happened.
After an hour or so I dozed off. Realizing I had been arrested, Lenny had gone to a bail bonds place close by and bailed me out. I had spent six hours behind bars. During my time in stir, I came to the stark realization that a life of crime was not for me. I did have to appear in court a month later. I was fined $290 and put on three years’ probation. The worst part of the whole ordeal was not my arrest and incarceration, but having to put up with years of listening to my good buddies call me, “Jailbird!”