Hard Time Part 2

In Part I of Hard Time, my buddy Don and I hitchhiked from Minnesota to Boston in the late Summer of 1968. In Part II, we have walked into a police station in downtown Boston at about midnight, soaking wet with rain and hoping to get ourselves out of a jam.

Don and I were soaked to the gills, tired from two days on the road, and I had no idea what I was going to say when the Precinct Duty Office asked me, "And what can I do for you boys tonight?" "Well", I said to the officer after he asked what we wanted. "My buddy Don here, and I, just hitchhiked from Minnesota and we got here much later than we planned. We were going to stay with my cousin in Medford, at Tuft's, but it's too late to get there now", I said. The big officer looked us over carefully and asked, "You boys came here from Minnesota?"

"Yes sir. Minnesota."

"And you say you hitchhiked here?"

"That's right sir. Hitchhiked here from Minnesota."

"Well by God, that's something. Hitchhiked here from Minnesota. Say, you boys aren't 'run-a-ways' are you?", the office asked in a different tone of voice.

"No sir. Both of us are going to college in a few weeks. We're just hitchhiking around to see my cousin in Medford."

"Ah-ha", he said. "And tell me, again, what is it that I can do for you boys?"

"Well, like I said, my buddy Don and I just got into town and it's too late to get to Medford. It's raining outside so we can't camp out, and..."

"Camp out!", the office exclaimed. "You can't camp out in Boston. This is the city!"

"Well I know." The conversation was starting to go in the wrong direction. "We checked out some hotels in town but they are all too expensive and we don't want to waste our money", I explained.

"Are you boys vagrants?", the office asked. "If you boys are vagrants, we might have a problem."

Now I was really getting concerned, and whipped out my wallet as fast as I could. "Look at this. We have lots of money", I said as I fanned the four $20 bills in my wallet. "And Don here has plenty of money too", I said as fast as I could, hoping Don didn't say anything about only having about $8 left after the 'robbery'.

"OK, OK", said the officer. "But I still can't figure out what you want me to do about all this. Why are you here?"

So here is was: My Big Chance. The officer's tone had changed, and he looked truly interested in what I was going to say next. "Well sir, here is the deal. My mom always said that if I get into trouble, I'm supposed to find a police officer and ask for help. So here I am, asking for your help", I said in the most earnest voice I could muster.

.

"Let me get this straight" said the officer. "Your mother in Minnesota told you if you got into trouble you should find a cop and he'll help you out. So you hitchhike to Boston in the rain, in the middle of the night, find me - and now you want me to help you out. Does that about sum it up?" he asked in an equally sincere way.

"Well, I hadn't thought about it in just that way, but, yes sir, that is basically the deal", I said. "And Don here, and I, were wondering if we could stay in your jail, just for the night?"

 There, I finally said it. After I had gotten started, I knew that this was where I was going with the conversation, but it was a big surprise to the big, pale, Irish police officer.

"Is that what you want me to do, let you stay in the jail tonight", asked the officer.

"Yes", I said. "That's right. Just until morning and then we will go on up to Medford."

The look on the officer's face wasn't as encouraging as I had hoped. "I don't know how they do it in Minnesota, but in Boston we don't let people just stay overnight in the jails. What if we have a riot or something? Where would be put all the people?" he asked me.

"Well, it's so late I don't think there will be a riot, but if there was, you could just wake me up, and I'll wake Don up, and we'd leave. Right away. Really, we wouldn't be any bother at all."

"Boys, I don't know what to tell you, but you cannot stay in my jail tonight. It just isn't possible" he said as nicely as he could.

"What do you think we should do?" I asked.

The officer then sat back in his big leather chair and looked at me for what seemed like a long time. I didn't say anything and just kept looking back at him. Finally he said, "I have an idea. Would you boys be willing to stay overnight in a prison?" I smiled back at him, "Staying in a prison sounds perfect to me."

The officer picked up his phone, dialed a number, and began explaining in an abbreviated version of our dilemma. "Yeah Bob, that's what I said. They're from Minnesota; they hitchhiked here. Yeah, that's right. They want to stay in your prison. No, they look like some pretty good kids. OK, I'll send them over." Then he looked back at me. "OK boys, you're all set. My buddy Bob over at the Corrections Center says you can stay in the prison. It's only a few blocks from here - about a 10 minute walk. How does that sound?"

"That sounds perfect", I said. "How do we get there from here?" He gave me the simple instructions on how to get to the prison, I thanked him profusely, and Don and I walked out into the dark, dreary night on our way to Boston Correctional. Our problems were over.

Or were they?

Next week you'll find out how it went at the penitentiary in Hard Time; Part III.