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2 MY FORMAL EDUCATION Theyear was 1935 and I was thirteen years old. Even at that young age, I had heard many bad things about Preston, and I dreaded the idea of having to go. Early in the morning on the scheduled day for the transfer, a police officer in civilian clothes came to my cell and waited for the officers to unlock the door. As he waited, I could see him looking me over, probably to determine if I was big enough to give him any trouble. At that time I stood about five feet two inches, if I stretched a bit, and weighed 120 pounds after a full meal. After a moment he grinned at me and said, ‘‘Well, Ernie, are you ready?’’ I just shrugged my shoulders, since I was very shy when it came to talking to people. My door was unlocked and, despite my small size, he put a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. He led me to his car and had me climb into the back seat. We headed out of LA to make the trip up north. Since he told me that it would be an eight-hour drive, I stretched out and got as comfortable as I could, considering my hands were still cuffed together. After we had driven for a short while, he said to me, ‘‘Listen, Ernie, we’re in Pasadena right now, and I’m going to make a short stop here and pick up a friend.’’ As we pulled up in front of a house, he turned to me and said, ‘‘Now look, if I take off your cuffs, can I trust you not to try and run off?’’ I nodded my head up and down, and he seemed quite satisfied that I wouldn’t try anything funny. He removed the cuffs and walked a few feet from the car where the steps led up to the front door. I really had other thoughts, but the car was a two-door sedan, and I didn’t think I could push the front seat down, open the passenger door, scramble through, and get very much of a running start before he could leap down the stairs and be on me. So I just sat and waited to see what else would develop. He rang the doorbell and looked back in mydirection just as the door opened. Inside stood a young, good-looking woman. She gave him a quick hug and a kiss, and he spoke to her for a few moments before picking up some luggage she had waiting by the door. As they walked toward the car, I saw him point at me, and I strained to hear what hewas saying. He was telling her about transporting me to Preston. She listened intently, nodding her head. It was obvious to me he was romancing her. I believe he had taken off my cuffs to impress her how he had everything under control. Maybe he just didn’t want to look like a guy who had to act tough around a thirteen-year-old. He opened the passenger door for her, and when she saw me, a look of surprise came over her face. She almost squealed with delight when she spoke. ‘‘Oh, he’s just a little fellow, isn’t he?’’ Because Preston housed many young men in their early twenties, her image of a Preston internee was quite a bit different from whom she found looking at her from the back seat. I probably seemed no more than a child to her. As the officer introduced her to me, she gave me a wide smile like an adoring mother and said to him, ‘‘Gee, he’s a cute little guy.’’ She was just about cooing by then. We left Pasadena around 3:30 in the morning and the woman turned to the officer. ‘‘Why don’t you stop and get some candy bars for the little boy?’’ He didn’t seem too thrilled with the idea, but he drove us to an allnight restaurant. Instead of getting out, he started blowing his horn until a waiter came out to the car. He asked the waiter if he could bring out about five assorted candy bars. The waiter brought them out to the car, and I munched on the candy as we made our way to Bakersfield. Pretty soon I fell asleep in the back...

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