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He would stand there as long as it would take until someone opened window x and took care of his business, he with his black leather jacket and heavy duty welded-link chain.

When had however some misfortunes while at Winfield. I always had boards between the sliding glass windows of the type adjoining very large picture windows, so they wouldn't open more than three inches. On first moving there, he did not like the aesthetics and took them out, and promptly got robbed. He was there the night Nixon resigned. He had marijuana plants in the front corner windows where I used to grow them, and could easily be seen from the street. The night Nixon capitulated, apparently the cops in sympathy with Nixon, arrested anybody in the city they didn't care for. They busted When for plant possession. This apartment was probably somewhat well known in the city before When ever moved in there. They were probably busting the apartment and not When. At some point he bought a brand new motorcycle costing two-thousand dollars, and one day he parked it on the corner and forgot to chain lock it. An hour later when he went out, it was gone and he had no insurance, the bike being new he had not bought it yet. It would have been a simple matter for someone to roll the bike down the hill without ever having to start it, like they used to do cars in the old days.

I moved back into my old place and now went back to ceramics. There was no place to paint. With Sonoma there, I could not turn the place into a painting studio, and the pottery shop was already dusty. I pursued ceramic sculpture for the next fifteen years, or until it seemed like there was nothing else except to try to make a living at it.

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