My Beginnings
I was born Sept 4 1948 in Stockton Ca. In about 1953 we moved to Hayward Ca and lived in a middle class 1950's nuclear family, where GI's bought homes after the war. It could have been the neighborhood where "Leave It To beaver" was filmed. I grew up with my brother and three sisters. We did not have a lot of money so I cut lawns, delivered papers; I even worked in the fields. My father worked for the railroad at day and a gas station at night to make ends meet.. I never really knew my mother as for most of my life she was insane. Our house although in this setting stuck out like a sore thumb by maybe 1958. Our front yard was always over grown with weeds, and the neighbors. . A typical dinner at the Balison house was two bologna sandwiches and a bottle of Pepsi. The Pepsi and bologna became a joke between our friends. One day a friend we called square head Ted called us the “Bounty Beef Stew Boys” I remember thinking I wish we were eating that good. I guess we were the neighborhood outcasts, one of my earliest memories was a lady from the other end of the block coming to our door demanding that we return the bike we had stolen. We gained a reputation over the years and eventually I guess we became what at first we were falsely accused of. However I guess some of the neighbors would talk and feed off of each others gossip. I think we just shrugged it off in those days, but looking back it may of left it's scare that hindsight can see.
My mother was in reality what is called a shopping bag lady. She would walk the streets talking to herself and laughing for no reason. Even picking up cigarette butts to smoke. Her clothes were old and out of style. She even spent a year in a mental hospital. But life overcame her again never to regain a normal mental state.
Portrait in Black and White # 72 (A poem to my mother)
Sometimes I just start to jiggle
You ask why I sit and giggle
I learned from the woman with a tumor face
We all lived in the same place
On this earth she was planted
To her life was slanted
That's what she chanted
Or that is what she ranted
A life that did sag
A dress patched with many a rag
They gave her this tag
She is just another crazy old hag
With tangled and matted hair
People would wonder and stare
This I do now share
Life isn't always fair
Dark clouds and rain
Filled her tired brain
I really think it was the strain
That caused her to go insane
One day they found her dead
Hanging half off the bed
At only forty-three life she fled
That's what was said
As to my Father, I would like to ask him some questions.
How come you did not pay on the mortgage and got us kicked out of our home even though you had money in the bank.
Also, I want to know why did mom always have a place to stay and a bed to die in.
Why did you have a girl friend who was on crutches due to polio, and her son was in wheel chair from polio.
Why did you let us call you by your kick name Dick
These two little guys here grew up playing baseball, going to school, watching that new invention television. No not really too much different from any other 1950’s little guys. Maybe we went to school with kids like yours or maybe your children play with kids like us. It all seemed so normal we thought we were like everyone else But, why in Sam hell did these two little guys end up robbing people on the street, and fixing heroin, being jailed in Los Angeles, San Francisco. I myself was on the streets from maybe October 1966 to about October 1979 when I thought I would marry and settle down. Against all odds and the help of God Almighty I have raised three good kids who are loving to their mother, and respect me of all things.
About the summer of 1966 my oldest friend Jim had me listen to a couple of Bob Dylan's albums. As I remember the first song Jim played was Highway 61 Revisited.
I remember thinking it was weird. Dylan did with words what Salvador Dali did with a canvas and brush. I couldn't imagine how anyone would listen to that stuff. However before the year was over Jim and I would be among the last of the Beatniks, and the first Hippies.
On My Own and Strung Out
I dropped out of high school in the 10th grade. The philosophy of that day was 'Turn on, tune in, drop out'. October 1966 I met Jim in North Beach the center of the west coast beatnik scene. The North Beach was located at the end of China Town and had been a traditional Italian neighborhood. San Francisco was quite a place for a couple eighteen year olds. We found a hang out at Mikes Pool Hall among the topless night clubs on Broadway . What a place Mikes was, it had the appearance of something from San Francisco's Barbary Coast period. Low hanging lights which illuminated a cloud of cigarette smoke that always hung over the pool tables. What a crowd, suited office workers from the financial district next to a outlaw bikers, maybe a beatnik side by side at the bar a woman that had the appearance of a 1950's housewife, and in the many dark corners secret things happened, things passed from hand to hand in the darkness to avoid detection. Jim and I being under age could only order a coke, but we would sit in the front window as to be observed, and to be thought of as part of the crowd. Now days we would be called posers, in those days the term would have been plastic. Oh wow how plastic man.
We found out about the Haight Ashbury from a chick named Rusty that worked in the topless shoe shine next to City Lights Book Store. She also clued us in that the word "beatnik" was a passé and that we were now hippies. I remember thinking “hippie what kind of word is hippie, It sounded as though you were disproportional. We found free places to crash with trippy names Greta Garbo's, The British Embassy, or 1090 Page St. home of Big Brother and the Holding Company. At 1090 I met Chuck Jones who was the first drummer for Big Brother, but was replaced by Dave Getz before they got Janis Joplin and made it big. Chuck passed on I think in 2003. I got my first cap of acid from Chuck; it was in capsule form in those days. about all I remember about 1090 was a room without a door on the third floor where I crashed a few time.
Within my first six months in the Haight Ashbury I became a Dylan Freak, took about sixty acid trips, and finally got strung out on meth. My first fix of speed was given to me by a chick named Crystal Gypsy who liked to dress like a biker mamma, carried a knife and was not afraid to pull it. I was for maybe the next year strung out on speed. During 1967 I was busted twice, but coped a plea both times and was releases in 62 days and 45 days.
1967 daily menu for the downtown jail in San Francisco
Breakfast
One cup of black coffee, one bowl of oatmeal, and two slices of white bread
Lunch
One cup of black coffee, one bowl of soup, and two slices of white bread.
Dinner
One cup of black coffee, one bowl of stew, and two slices of white bread
Here I was a little scrawny Haight Ashbury speed freak in jail with all these old timers. There were burglars, thieves, killers, street thugs that dressed in the style of the “Blues Brothers”. I think they were a little weirded out by the hippies though; they would often question me in a curious way rather than an antagonizing way. I got a lot of respect one day when this dude from Chicago busted for attempted murder were messing around and got into a wrestling match. I was small and fast and all over him. In just a few seconds I had him in a full nelson. He was laughing pretty hard about it. It’s a good thing it was a friendly thing, had it been for real I would not have been able to withstand his power very long I must say.
Making Money Over the Years
For money I panhandled, ate free food at the Diggers which was like a hippy version of the Salvation Army, I sold pen and ink drawings in downtown San Francisco, worked odd jobs. One job I had was cleaning up a hamburger joint on Market Street from 3 till 5 A.M.. For pay I got $5.00, a hamburger with fries and all the day old donuts. I found that I could go to Haight Street and turn on people to free donuts they would often turn me on to a joint, or once some acid, but more often than not I just gave away free donuts which is what I wanted to do. In July 1968 got a job with the carnival for a couple months. Then in Del Mar California I got a job as a hot walker at the horse race track (walk a horse in a circle and get a dollar, why on a good day one could make as much as $8). Late 1968 I was back on Haight Street, where I ran into a chick everyone knew as Donna with the dogs. Donna was an old time Greenwich Village junky, it was her that gave me my first good fix of heroin. Also got me to pull my first rip-off. We both got about $200 dollars each. I did not like the idea of ripping someone off. However when I got strung out in 1971 as I would get sick from withdrawal I found creative ways of coming up with coping money. The process of reentering society started when I joined the carnival in July 1978. The funny thing about a carnival is that a person could not make it on the outside can adjust their self to a structured culture. Despite what one may think of the carnival a hand shake was just as good as any contract there.
About this time I also into old lady LeClaire a friends mother who was over there with a church group preaching to us degenerate hippies. I got there address in San Leandro a couple weeks later crashing at their place which I called “The Hilton Hovel”. I first got a job working in the parks in Hayward. Later I found a little better job in a furniture factory. My next job I got an invitation from my neighbors at the draft board saying greetings you will be excepted so come on down for your physical for the U.S. Army. So to beat the draft and better my chances of not having to go to Vietnam I enlisted.
You’re In The Army Now
I went into the U.S. Army March of 1969 was at Ft. Lewis Washington for basic training for two months till May, and went to Ft. Leonard Wood Missouri for two months. About August of 69 I went to Frankfort Germany. When I got to Germany I was told that almost no one is sent to Vietnam. That was good news and true, however I was part of that small percentage that went to Nam. There I found an abundance of hashish and some opium. I smoked a lot of hash and would fix opium when I could get it. About 6 months after arriving in Germany I got orders for Vietnam. On leave in San Francisco me and an old friend I called New York Jim went into a bar in the Haight to get a beer. Because I was not quite 21 so I was refused, so we went and scored some really good stuff (heroin). I usually just called heroin “stuff”. On leave I got busted again and did about 20 days. I had money for a street lawyer and beat the rap.
I Don't Like Green Eggs And Ham
Better get this straight pal
Your in the Army now
I hope this don't appall
But we're off to the mess hall
Down your throat we'll cram
A full plate of green eggs and ham
I don't think I like green eggs and ham
Uncle Sam I am
Would you like some Spam
With your green eggs and ham
I still don't want the green eggs and ham
But I'll take the Spam
We could cook it in Pam
If you shut up I'll try the green eggs and ham
This is no guff
I like this stuff
This is my decision
It's better than the mission
Now that I like green eggs and ham
Uncle Sam I am
I won't have to panhandle for food
I'll just go see the mess hall dude
When I arrived in Vietnam I got some really good news, from the people at the armory. 'You have to clean your rifle once a month, but I have nothing to do so I'll do it for you. I never had to fight, and never saw any real combat. When I finally arrived at my company 125th Air Traffic Controllers, when they found out that I got loaded someone offered me some coke. I did not like anything to do with uppers, but what the hell. When I took a snort I realized that this was smack. Near the end of my tour of Nam I turned myself in to a Army rehab program. My habit was so bad that during withdrawal I went into convolutions. The medic told me it was the worst withdrawal that he had ever observed. He told me that they had to give me morphine another opiate to ease the withdrawal.
On leave from in route to Ft Hood from Vietnam I spent with my old Haight Ashbury bro Freddy the Barber. Freddy went back to the “Beat Generation”; he at my questioning would often tell me what it was like to be a dope fiend in the late 1950’s days. He even bragged that he fixed with nationally know comedian Lenny Bruce. Judi was there with me, we had known each other sine late 1966. We had first met at a crash pad at Fillmore and Page ran by a guy name Shelly. I remember her telling me about coming up from Los Angeles area and partying in Topanga Canyon. Then we met again at 256 Central Street where we were crashing. The Central was a shooting gallery and several of us were crashing there. That is where I also met Crazy Cathi and Donna who I also had strong feelings for. You know what is important here is, how I was thought of. The last time I saw Donna was by the Greyhound depot on 7th street. I was working that area trying to get enough money for a fix when we had a chance meeting, she was living about 50 miles out of S.F. and had come into town for a couple errands we had a brief and casual conversation she told me she was tired of living like a rat and had cleaned up and got a job and had a good boyfriend. It was a happy and all smile meeting, and she was happy to see me and all that. I had to hide the fact that I was out working the streets, and strung out. I could tell in her eyes and voice what was in her heart.
But back to Judi, we had always kept in touch over the years, and were always close. I was first attracted to her by her beauty. I will say this we were never lovers as peculiar as it may seem, but always friends. Sometimes it hurt, but I wanted to be her friend and I was, and she was my dear friend. Just being in her presence was enough for me, as with Cathi and Donna. Over the years we got to know each other very well, and she was more beautiful inside and caring than anyone I knew at that time. We always came to each others aid, usually in the form of a place to crash, or food, dope, or just someone to be with. During our last time together I was on leave from the Army, and she was making money doing porn on the live stage using the name Jamie McLain. But being a dope fiend I just thought it was a way to make money, being a man I thought cool, but looking back I wish things were different. Anyway I was staying in the same rundown old hotel as she was about a block from where she was working “The New Follies” on 16th ST and Mission. I was in my room which consisted of one old bed, one old chair, one old sink, one old drafty window. That's how I spent my last leave in the Army. All too soon my leave was over, so I left for my last duty station.
My final months in the U.S. Army were at Ft. Hood TX. Of course I found a connection for heroin. The funny thing was the dope had a reddish color to it just like the red Texas dirt. Somehow I got an Honorable Discharge which I am proud, And while I am glad and proud that I went to Viet Nam, I am also glad I never had to fire a weapon at anyone.
My Most Evil Years
I knew right from wrong but did wrong any way, all for a fix of heroin. After a couple of rip offs and the need of fixing your values change. We the petty con men that worked San Francisco’s Market Street form7th St. where the Greyhound depot once was to about the Cable Car Turn at Powell St. Mostly were would mostly try to sell catnip as weed. Funny thing there was a nearby pet shop ran by a elderly couple that not only sold us the catnip but would give out zip lock baggies for the asking. I don’t know if they knew what was going on.
After somehow getting a Honorable Discharge from the Army I ran into Roger who was working Market St pulling petty rip offs and picking wallets out of purses at the cable car turn. Roger also knew Judi, He gave me the worst news one can receive, she went to work in Seattle as a stripper and took an overdose. I do not believe in ghosts, but every now and then I see a brief glimpse of her even after all these years. Once I saw her in the face of a news anchor, another time out of the corner of my eye I got a fleeting glimpse but when I turned it was just a sales girl. In our letters we talked about writing a book. Will that book was finally written. I took all her letters and scanned them and added notes. She did help me and was there in my heart that is. You will see that we never held back anything; we revealed our heart and mind, and even our deepest secrets to each other. I guess I use to be that kind of guy. The funny thing is Judi, Donna, and Crazy Cathi were all that way with me and they were all friends of each other. Matter of fact Cathi and I were together so much most people thought of us as a couple. As to Donna we became pretty close. Maybe she was not the prettiest girl on Haight Street, but getting to know her I had strong feelings for her.
But, I must say this I now have a wife and three son who grew up to be respectable people. My oldest son won’t let me get even the slightest bit testy with Tina, his mother and my wife of over 25 years. I find that kind of touching that from me someone who would have robbed a starving person of their last dollar that a kid like that would have sprung.
Anyway I started working the street with Roger and other dope fiends. We pulled off everything from selling catnip as weed to pick pocketing. One time this black dude approached me and had seen me working the street, and had a good scam selling phony watches from the carnival supply. We did pretty good, buy a watch for $12 and sell it for $20, $30 or more. With two or three sales we could go get loaded. I was now part of San Francisco’s infamous tenderloin district. All my best friends were of the lowest order, dope fiends, prostitutes, and parolees from San Quentin. Dope fiend chicks could make money easier than the guys, but most chicks wanted a old man for protection on the evil street. I might add this when you get strung out there will come a time when you will do things you never thought you would do. I myself did not like the idea of packing heat, so I never carried a gun. I did know some people that carried, but I am glad to say I backed off from that.
When Judi was around she was always introducing me to her girl friends. But now that she was gone. Freddy the Barber 's old lady Rene matched me up with Laura a street wise dope fiend broad. She worked the bars around the tenderloin district mostly Eddy St and Jones. We never got to be too close, she really wanted me there for protection, and I was interested in getting loaded on a daily basis. Most of the girls I knew at that time were turning tricks. To me they were just the girls I knew, I might watch a TV program with a whore in the lobby of the Elm Hotel or have a little chit chat to on the street a stripper. After a couple months I got tired of Laura, but moved in with a woman I will call my 43 year old Jewish mother. The way I met her I saw her smoking a cigar and dressed kind of mannish, so I walked up to her and stood by her side and said hi mom. We were living together with in a couple weeks. She was not born Jewish but to married a to a Jewish man she converted. We would go shop lift at a upscale department store like The Emporium at Stones Town, then go return it at the downtown Emporium. After a while I soon tired of this figured I would do the Los Angeles thing. I had only been there once in early 1967 to see the Sunset Strip which was the center of the hippy thing. But my brother had been there long enough to make some connections.
This little story is about what I call an “Agape Moment”. Briefly an “Agape Moment” is a wonderful moment when you are not expecting anything but are rewarded by a genuine and sincere act of gratitude. Yes I have had many heartfelt thank-yous but I can think of only two that I would call an agape moment. First I need to explain what I call an “Agape Moment”. But first I need to define the word agape. It is ancient Greek, and I am using it more so in a secular sense. I define agape this way; a selfless act expecting no reward, such as giving to the Salvation Army. Just giving as a charitable thing with pure motives nothing more. But when the afore is done and you are shown an unexpected deep and sincere gratitude that touches your heart, that is what I call an agape moment. Yes I think my so called agape moments may be subjective! I can’t even say why some things stick out more than other things. But now a introductory story then my poem..
Late in1972 I was pointed out a young black girl and told that she had been gang raped. I don’t know why but the next time I saw her I went out of my way to talk to her. Here I was a 25 year old hard core junky that would rob, cheat, steel and lie just to get a fix, talking to this kid, but feeling something wrong was done. I found out her name was Dolores and she was seventeen. I told her that I had heard what had happened to her, and asked her if it was true. I do remember her eyes widening at hearing my question. I don’t why she confided this to me, maybe she read something in my face, yes it did happen. I now also wonder why I would so bold ask such a personal question of a young girl. I do not remember what I said but it must have been the right thing, she became a friend. Looking back I think on her part she must of developed an affection that you will see as you read on.
Anyway over the next few months she would stop me just to talk, and even read her poetry to me in Dolores Park of all places. On one occasion I gave her some clothes, and then ask her for a kiss. Of her own free will she allowed me a kiss. As we were arms embraced in the middle of a passionate kiss this came to mind I was a dope fiend she was this young girl that deserved better than getting involved with me. At that thought I let it go at one kiss. As the story goes I did not see her again for three or four years, then one night as I was driving taxi and I picked up a couple black women going home one of them was Dolores. We started talking, she was now married. As she paid the fare she leaded over the seat and gave me a kiss. I look back on that memory feeling good that I did something nice, and have a something excellent to remember. But what also touches me after all these years is that if I had not been strung out and would have been a nice guy I would have more of these good stories to tell. I call that an agape moment. That is I committed an act of kindness and good well expecting nothing in return, but was greatly rewarded by true gratitude.
Dolores
When life was very stark
I met a young girl in the park
She sang her poetry as lark
Knowing not that I was as a shark
Her skin is like midnight
Yet to me very bright
In remembrance a delight
In a soaring dream flight
Wonder what ever happened to Dolores
I guess she never signed up with William Morris
Just sang in the Mean Streets Chorus
My friend Dolores
Must be living in her own shack
Hope without any flack
Nor living on her sacroiliac
And away from the smack
Though we never did together lay
A tribute in memory of her with me does stay
The things that happened in Baghdad by the bay
Thought's and memories with me to this day
In 1973 I went to the Hollywood where my brother had been paroled to. I stayed only for a few days and found that there was a lot of stuff as I usually called heroin. In those days that was my kind of town. I needed a change so I went to Glendale Ca. and got a job as a class c drill press operator. This gave me enough money to get loaded now and then. But I knew there must be a better job than standing there pulling a handle all day. Next I got a job in a plant where they made thread gages I got a job turning a handle all day, but the pay was better, and I learned from some old school masters. I caught on fast and this gave me a good skill to make a good wage for a single guy. This lasted for about three years, but the money mostly went in my arm. The police in the LA area made it too hot. I was busted twice on what is called a marks beef, which is just being under the influence of heroin with needle marks on you.
So about the early part of 1975 I came back to San Francisco. I got a job working at The Gaylord Hotel. I made a friend Alex there who on one occasion got us into where The Grateful Dead were recording. When Alex and his girlfriend got married it was by Barry 'The Fish' Melton of Country Joe and the Fish of Woodstock 69 fame. Anyway then I got a job driving cab, for all of 1976. In 1977 I felt the need change for a change so I went to Bend Oregon for nothing, then on to Portland where I first got a job in a candy factory. Then I got a real dead end job working for a guy that cremated and embalmed the dear departed for the local morticians. Things were dead up in Portland so again back to the Bay Area where I got a job in a sheet metal shop in San Leandro. But still close to San Francisco where I could go cop some stuff (heroin).
Then one day the carnival was in town so in order to make some extra money for my arm, I got a job on the weekends working a game at the carnival. I made some doper friends on the carnival lot, so I called up my boss at the sheet metal shop and told him that I wouldn't be returning because I was going to travel with the carnival. I was told that I was crazy and that was that. Heroin is not too welcome on the carnival lot, however there were a lot of cranksters. I did not care for uppers too much so I rarely got wired. There I stayed till October 1989 when the girl I was engaged to Tina and I thought that we should make a break from the show. I got a job in Glendale, at the gage shop where I had worked in the early seventies. 1980 I took my last fix. I also eventually stopped taking all drugs altogether. Because of my separation from heroin for the most part of two years the transition was not physically bad. The mental part was the longing for the fix, rush, and high. Tina and I were married January 4 1980. Later that year we had our first son Patrick. Then in 1984 we had our second son Daniel. 1987 we moved to San Jose Ca. Then in 1992 we had our third son Paul in 1992. All five of us believe in the Born Again experience, and have accepted Jesus Christ as our Savior. I am sure that I am not the best example of a Christian, but I still claim to be one.
March 1996 we moved to Phoenix AZ. After about eight months the situation changed and there was no work so we hung around for two months and traveled around Arizona and New Mexico then moved to San Luis Obispo Ca. for another six or seven months. But for insurance and money I went back to my job in the San Jose area but had to live in Manteca CA 75 miles away. I have a pretty good job, Matter of fact in Feb of 2000 I was sent Switzerland to assist in the purchase of three machines for the company I work for. Also I have also been sent to Mexico to look at machines.
More to come