NEVER BUY FISH ON A HOT DAY.
August 17, 2012
I’m used to good mileage in my Prius and filling up the tank of my old 1994 Ford Ranger put a good-sized dent in the wallet. I made it to the Bay Area with nary a hint of a leak and it was certainly worth it to drive my truck and let it know I still cared about it. It responded by purring all the way to the Bay. I expect a lot from this truck when I need it.
I founded the Alameda County Sheriff’s Department Archive Association and worked hard over the intervening years to get it up and running, along with a lot of volunteer help, of course. When I turned it over to Bill Rhodes, top left, it was the right decision. He has made so many positive changes that every time I do attend a meeting, I hardly recognize the place. He has expanded our buildings, is having a new one built and is rebuilding our old guard tower. Next to him is Vic Agapalo and attending with a broken foot is Rich Barlow.
Al Ianarelli checked in as did Bud Harlan, not pictured.) New is a case made for this missing child’s bust that came out of evidence. The new building will hold a mock cell with old style jail doors we have stored, along with other heavy equipment.
We will go from three large rooms and three storage rooms to one-third more space and we have enough stuff to fill it. It is a great project and my contribution since being on the road with Jim is to interview deputies about the history of the department. I spent my time interviewing Rich Barlow, yesterday.
A recent donation to the archive was business cards and a shield that once belonged to Hell’s Angel Berdoo. The Angels have changed their image from the old days. When my husband was a detective, he arrested Sonny Barger and confiscated his stolen motorcycle and put it into evidence at the County Garage Impound Yard. The way it worked, when someone came to pick up their vehicle, he took the elevator down to the garage, the civilian clerk would ask for their release order, then he would open the locked gates to drive the vehicle out. Sonny, out on bail, with a friend, went to pick up his vehicle. He had no release. The friend distracted the clerk and Sonny got into the yard rolled his motorcycle into the elevator and went out with it through the building. My husband couldn’t make his case without the evidence and Sonny went free. The clerk, of course, was not a cop.
On the way home I stopped at a Costco to buy some batteries and refill on cheaper gas, at $3.93. Murphys price is $4.29. I found some beautiful U.S. wild caught cod and bought it, figuring my air conditioning would keep it cool enough to get home. Well, long story short, my newly cleaned truck smells like fish; I had to poach the whole package when I crawled through the door at about 6:30 p.m. I can’t possibly eat all that fish. I’ll have to be creative and invite company over. I had six messages on my phone. One an emergency call from a friend who was in an accident. It took me two hours to locate him. He was so drugged he was practically incoherent, one arm in a sling, and a whip-lash collar. His car totaled. Another cold beer night.




Kudos to you on founding the Sheriff’s Archive!
Thank you again. When I first met Jim, it was hard to let go of my baby. But, it needed new inspiration and a new leader. I’m very grateful to Bill Rhodes.
Are my eyes deceiving me? Does the poster on the wall read: “Russell City Country Club?” is that right. As I remember it, Russell City was the landfill when I was a kid.
My dad took me there a couple of times and it always seemed like a totally different world from the place I lived (Hayward).
DS
You are right. Russell City was a hodge podge of cardboard, and wooden shacks with a few sturdy buildings lining rutted muddy streets, built at/near the dump by poor, mostly blacks. They were shut out of conventional housing. They didn’t own the property. They had their own store and yes, Country Club. Famous black musicians doing paid gigs in nearby San Francisco or Oakland would stop in at Russell City and entertain the “brothers” free. The locals charged a nominal fee and they would fill the joint. Local cops also knew where to go for the best ribs and other great food-Russell City. Russell City is no more. Someone rescued the sign and donated it to our archive.