WEBSITE AND BLOG MENUS – TOP OF PAGE 
If you were asked…
What would your answer be?
Seems like an easy question to answer…right?
Your mind remembers everything you’ve ever done and can recall it in vivid detail when need be.
That is until you’re sitting in an interrogation room at the local Police Department and that’s the question being asked of you.
The reason you’re being asked this question?
A young girls body was found in the woods near an Amusement Park.
She is dead!
You’re new in town and no one knows who you are!
So…
WHERE WERE YOU ON THE NIGHT OF…?
The year was…
“The Summer Of Love” it was called.
The era of the ‘Hippies’.
This was my fourth year of being on my own.
The road had become my new home since running away from what was once my home at the ripe age of thirteen.
I was seventeen now and about as much of a Hippie as you could be at that time.
Hitch-hiking around the country.
Going where ever my thumb could take me
I had no job.
No personal property other than the cloths on my back.
An acoustic guitar, a backpack, a handful of cloths, a bedroll, a pair of moccasins, long hair, no money…
and no I.D. what-so-ever.
Basically I had nothing with no hope of ever having anything other than a heart full of Love, a thumb out and a heck of a lot of highway in front of me.
So…I took advantage of my situation and set out to discover America…
Back in those days you could hitch a ride pretty easily.
Just stick your thumb out and usually within half an hour or so you’d be sitting in a car or truck off to your destination.
During that summer of 67′ the freedom of ‘thumbing a ride’ started getting some resistance from the local authorities.
Dead bodies started showing up on the sides of Highways.
There was also Rapes, Assaults and Robberies.
These actions were not only committed by the person picking up the hitch-hiker the hitch-hiker now was just as guilty of committing them.
It was starting to get a little scary on the road thumbing across the country I do have to admit.
You were never really sure who was picking you up.
I guess it was a mutual feeling among the drivers as well.
In the end it was taking a lot longer for someone to stop and pick you up.
Actually you were lucky if anyone picked you up at all.
Some states started to ban hitching on the highways all together…
even making it illegal in some places.
Signs started appearing on most highways.
But, the signs didn’t stop us from hitch-hiking.
At least not at first.
One had to get to where they were going if you know what I mean.
I myself was picked up on the outskirts of New York City on Route 95 North Bound that summer.
A local Police cruiser pulled over in front of me as I was hitch-hiking.
Two officers were in the cruiser.
One of the officers got out and instructed me to put my hands on my head.
He then proceeded to pat me down and search my belongings.
The other officer got out of the cruiser and asked me for my ID.
I told him my name and said “I didn’t have any ID.”
“Oh really!” was the reply I received.
After the other officer finished with his search I was placed into the back seat of the cruiser.
My belongs were put into the trunk.
We then pulled back onto the highway and drove away heading North.
I was informed that it was illegal to hitch-hike on any of the highways in New York.
This was all that was said to me the rest of the ride.
The two officers spoke to each other then one of them made a call to their station.
They informed them that they had picked up a white male individual hitch-hiking on Route 95 North bound.
We drove for about fifteen minutes after that call arriving at the New York, Connecticut State lines.
The cruiser pulled off the highway onto the brake down lane right before entering into Connecticut.
One of the officers got out of the cruiser and let me out of the back seat.
My belongings were returned to me and I was left standing on the New York State side.
I was told to leave New York and go into the state of Connecticut.
I was also instructed to never get caught hitch-hiking in New York again…
EVER!
I did what I was told and as I crossed the state line…they drove away.
I thought for sure I was going to go to jail that day for hitch-hiking.
Especially when I told them I had no I.D.
I didn’t want to end up in some New York City jail for who knows how long!
I was lucky that day.
Now a-days it’s totally illegal to hitch-hike almost every where you go.
Some places it’s illegal for you to pick up a hitch-hiker.
Ah…the freedom of the ‘Good Ole’ Days!’
Sad to see another great American tradition bite the dust.
In one month that summer I hitch-hiked from Florida to Louisiana.
Then it was off to Ohio, New York and finally Massachusetts.
In just one month!
It was truly a wonderful summer.
These destinations had no purpose to me other than it was the destination of the person who picked me up.
I had no particular place to go and I had nothing better to do anyway.
I was company for the driver and I got to see a lot of this beautiful country of ours at the same time.
My last stop that summer was in a quaint little town in Massachusetts.
Not knowing anyone in the area or where to go for help I was left with the only option I knew.
Find the local “Hippie” population.
This would usually lead me to a place to crash, some food and an overview of the local area.
I didn’t have a lot of personal belongings to carry as mentioned earlier, but it was a hindrance to be lugging all that stuff around.
So what to do to lighten up my load?
Look for a place to stash the gear and come back later to pick it up once I made a few contacts.
Sounded like a plan to me.
And that’s just what I did.
As I was heading towards the center of town I found myself on a street that had a few old abandoned houses on it.
The perfect spot to hide my belongings till later.
After carefully observing the area I chose a house that looked perfect for the task at hand.
Slipping into the backyard I found the perfect spot to stash my stash.
All my possessions where concealed from view and I left remembering the house number and street name.
All was well between the world and myself.
Now it was off to…
It was a Friday, early evening.
The perfect time to be out and about to meet the locals.
Usually you just had to find a park uptown and there you’d find a gathering of the local Hippies.
And this town was no different.
After searching for over an hour I found what I was looking for…
Hippie Heaven!
After chit-chatting with several people and ten or so tokes of the local weed…
I meet a wonderful couple that offered me a place to stay.
We hung around the park for a little longer then it was time to leave and pick up my belongings that I had stashed.
How lucky for me they even had a VW bus.
It was all painted up in true Hippie-fashion of course.
The couple owned a ‘Head Shop’ uptown that sold the usual ‘Hippie’ supplies.
Pipes, rolling papers, posters, etc..
In exchange for food and shelter I was to help them in their store.
This was great for them because they needed the help but couldn’t afford to pay someone for their time.
I needed a place to stay and food to eat.
That’s how it was back then.
You get something…You give something.
Yes they were…
…times back then.
We arrived at the house where I left my things.
I got out of the van and went in the backyard and got my stuff.
As I was returning to the van I came around the side of the house.
I saw my two new friends standing outside their van.
They were standing on the sidewalk talking to a police officer.
There was two police cruisers there also.
One in the driveway of the house and one in front of the van.
Lights flashing.
As I started to walk towards the van from behind me a voice ordered me to put down the items I had in my hands.
I was then told to put my hands up in the air.
An officer then approached me from behind, frisked me and put me in handcuffs.
I had no idea what was going on.
I was told that I was being brought downtown for questioning.
“Questioning?”
“Questioning about what?”
“What did I do?”
Back then there was no love affair between the law and the Hippies.
Actually not everyone was on board with the Hippie movement back then.
A lot of people had no use for the Hippies…none what so ever.
“A bunch of useless bums.” was the general opinion of most people.
I was use to the harassment that was usually delivered from the local law enforcement.
“Move along weirdo!”
“Hey sweetie, there’s no loitering.”
Things like that.
This was different.
This time I was put in handcuffs!
I was informed that one of the neighbors called the Police Station saying that…
“A suspicious person was in the neighborhood.”
“Going behind one house and leaving something there.”
All I could think of was that I was being arrested for trespassing on private property.
Boy was I wrong.
Back then there was no “You have the right to remain silent…”.
The only right you had was to shut up and do what your were told.
My questions of “Why is this happening to me?” were ignored.
I was shown the back seat of the cruiser that was parked in the driveway.
As we backed out onto the street we drove right past the two wonderful people I had just met.
They were still being questioned by the police.
They saw me looking at them and flashed me the Peace Sign as I was driven away.
I felt so bad for them.
This is what they got for being kind to someone.
Arriving at the Police station I was finger-printed, not booked, just finger-printed.
“Because you have no ID.” I was told.
I knew that they would find out who I was due to my past run ins with the law and having been finger-printed in the past.
I was then brought into a room with a table and three chairs.
One chair on one side of the table and the other two chairs on the opposite side of the table.
The room was colored in your typical military light-gray with a dark-gray trim and no windows.
A light was hanging from the center of the ceiling and it was really bright.
And of course there was the standard large two-way mirror in the center of one of the walls rounding off the decor of the room.
I was placed in a chair and was left alone in the room.
No hand cuffs or restrictions.
Just the room, the table and chairs, the light, the two-way mirror and me.
There I sat for at least twenty minutes.
Not knowing why I was there or what they were going to do with me.
Finally two detective type officers came into the room.
They confirmed that they knew who I was.
They had my name and my entire rap-sheet which they seemed delighted in reminding me of every detail they knew.
One of them was your average looking guy, the ‘Good Cop’ I assumed.
The other was a huge man.
Very intimidating looking.
I assumed this was the ‘Bad Cop’.
They both sat down at the table with me.
The ‘Good Cop’ had a manila folder in his hand and laid it on the table in front of himself.
Now the questioning began.
“What’s the purpose of your visit to our town?”
“Where did you just come from?”
“How long have you been in the area?”
“How long were you in the area you just came from?”
“Did you know the people you were with when the police brought you down to the station?”
“Why did you hide your belongings in a deserted house?”
Then the questioning started to turn towards the darker side.
“Why were you hanging around…?” some area of town that I had no idea of where they were talking about.
“You were seen last week with…” some person I never had met.
They were now taking turns asking me questions.
Each question now seemed to be of an accusing nature.
Like I knew something that I was hiding from them.
“People had seen you hanging around looking suspicious.”
“Why were you hanging around these areas?”
“Where were you last Tuesday?”
“Where were you last Thursday at around 11:00 am?”
“Don’t lie to us!”
“We have witnesses that put in the area you just denied you where in.”
“You better start telling us the truth!”
“You just told us a few moments ago you were in that area why are you now saying you weren’t there?”
“Your only making this hard on yourself.”
“Why do you keep lying to us?”
The questing went on for over an hour.
I was getting confused and scared.
I swear I was beginning to believe that I was lying to them.
I was lying because I couldn’t remember.
That I had been in the areas they were asking me about.
“You were just so high on drugs you don’t remember…RIGHT?”
The ‘Bad Cop’ got up at one point and started pacing around the room while the ‘Good Cop’ continued to ask questions.
Then the ‘Bad Cop’ started getting mad at my answers to the ‘Good Cops’ questions.
He kept asking me, “Why do you keep lying to us?”
“We know your lying…we have proof you were in this area…just admit it”
“Tell us the truth!”
“We’ve got all the time we need to make you tell us the truth.”
“Your not from this area.”
“You can’t come up with any proof of where you’ve been for the past month.”
“You want us to believe that you were just wandering around the country spreading Love and Peace?”
“Give us a name of someone you were with!”
“STOP lying to us!”
I was really starting to doubt my own answers that I was giving them.
Had I been in the areas they were talking about?
Could I have ‘zoned out’ and just didn’t remember?
I kept getting this feeling that I had to admit that I wasn’t sure…I didn’t remember…maybe I was there.
I just wanted this to be over.
Then the ‘Good Cop’ picked up the manila folder that was on the table.
He opened it up and pulled out a photo and laid it out on the table in front of me.
It was a school photograph of an attractive young girl probably fifteen or sixteen years old.
“How long have you known this girl?”
“What…I don’t know her.”
“I never met her.”
The ‘Bad Cop’ had it with me at this point.
He slammed both his hands down on the table and looked right into my eyes.
He then said something to me that to this day still makes my blood run cold throughout my body.
He said…
“Nobody knows who you are.”
“Nobody knows your here.”
“We can make you disappear and nobody would give a damn!”
“If you don’t start telling us the truth we’ll lock your ass up and you’ll never see the streets again!”
“Now I’m going to ask you once again…when was the last time you saw her”
Saying this as he pointed at the photo of the young girl that was on the table.
And once again I said “I have never seen or met her!”
The ‘Bad Cop’ then grabbed the manila folder and pulled out two more photos and slammed them down on the table in front of me.
“Well maybe these photos will remind you of who she is!”
“Do you recognize her now?”
Both photos were of the same attractive young girl they had just shown me.
The difference now was that she was laying on the ground in the woods.
She was beaten badly.
She had been stabbed multiple times.
Her cloths were partially ripped off her and it appeared she had been sexually abused.
She was dead.
“Do you remember her now?”
“Did you enjoy yourself you pervert?”
“Where’s the weapon you used?”
“Did you really think that you were going to get away with this?”
“Did she scream?”
“Did she try to defend herself?”
“Tell us the truth you son of a bitch or you’ll never walk out of this Police Station!”
How does one describe what goes through your head at a moment like this?
I felt like someone had just nailed my feet to the floor.
I’m serious.
I felt like ice cold spikes had just been hammered through my feet into the floor.
I couldn’t move.
The two photos of the young girl were horrific.
I didn’t want to look at them anymore.
“Don’t you look away from what you did!”
“Admit it!”
“Tell us the truth.”
“Confess now and make it easier on yourself.”
“Once again where were you last Thursday at 11:00 am?”
I almost panicked and said “Okay I don’t remember…maybe I was there…I just don’t remember.”
It had been almost two hours now of questioning and I was tired, confused and scared.
Then out of nowhere in my moment of sheer self-preservation I remember something.
My only hope of proving I was not in this area at the time they were suggesting.
“I remember now where I was!”
“I was in New York hitch-hiking on Route 95 North bound.
And I can prove it!”
“I was picked up by the police and escorted out of New York to the Connecticut State line.”
“There’s no way I could have been here at the same time!”
Both men went silent.
They asked me a few questions about the incident then left the room leaving the photos of the young girl.
I was alone in the room now.
My whole body was literally shaking.
I felt so cold inside.
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
All I could think of was that I’m going to be charged with murder!
I’m going to go to jail for murdering some girl that I never met and I definitely did not kill.
And I can’t prove I didn’t do it.
The things you think of when you find yourself in such a situation is amazing.
I couldn’t help but notice that there was a fly in the room with me.
All I could think of as I watched the fly buzzing around the room and landing on me several times was the movie Psycho.
The ending scene of the movie as Anthony Perkins, the star of the movie sat in a Police interrogation room.
The Police left him alone in the room.
In the scene there was a fly buzzing around the room.
As Anthony Perkins sat watching the fly it landed on him.
He thought to himself…
“I know they are watching me.”
“They will see that I am innocent.”
“They will see that I could swat and kill this fly at any moment.”
“They will see that I couldn’t even hurt a fly never mind kill another human being.”
Well that’s just what I was thinking as I sat there.
I started to wonder if they put that fly in the room with me on purpose.
They wanted to see how cruel or innocent I was.
Crazy I know but the whole thing that was going on at that moment was crazy.
I didn’t kill anyone…I wasn’t even here at that time.
About half an hour or so went by which felt like days.
Both detectives came back into the room.
The ‘Good Cop’ picked up the photos from the table as the ‘Bad Cop’ told me I was to come with them.
They brought me to the front of the station to a caged-in area with an officer inside it.
This is where I was brought when I first came into the Police Station.
Where they took my personal belongings and finger-printed me.
I thought for sure I was going to be ‘Booked’ now.
The ‘Good Cop’ told the officer behind the cage my name and said…
“Releasing him, he can have his personal belongs returned to him.”
The ‘Good Cop’ then turned to me and said “You’re free to go.”
The ‘Bad Cop’ said…”Your lucky your story checked out about being picked up by the New York Police for hitch-hiking.”
‘”Now get your stuff and get out of here!”
That was it.
It was all over.
This nightmare had now come to it’s end.
As I walked out the front door of the Police Station a feeling came over me that I had never truly felt before.
It was the feeling of…
I was…
I was free and not being charged with murder.
“Did that really just happen to me?” I was asking myself when all of a sudden I heard someone calling my name from down the street.
“Hey you jail-bird…they decided to set you free?”
I couldn’t believe it!.
It was the couple with the VW bus waving for me to come over to them.
I was in shock.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Do you think we were going to let free help slip away from us?”
“The cops said that they were just bringing you in for questioning and that if everything checked out they’d be letting you go.”
“They said we could wait for you if we wanted…and like we said…”
“Who can turn down FREE help”
“Those must have been some questions they were asking you.”
“You were in there for so long…but we had faith in you.”
“We knew you were a good guy.”
“Put your stuff in the van and lets go home.”
And that’s just what we did.
For the next seven months I stayed with them.
They shared what they had with me and and I gave all that I had to give to them in return.
Well, there you have it.
My story about the day I was asked…
“Where Where You On…?”
I hope that none of you are ever asked this question by the Police.
But if you are…
I HOPE THAT YOU CAN GIVE THEM AN ANSWER…AND PROVE IT!
For visiting my Blog.
Please…
…my Website.
My Blog (where you are now) is where I share with you the stories of my ‘Personal Life’ and my experiences as a ‘Musician’.
My Website is where you will find the ‘Business’ aspects of my ‘Music Career’.
Questions concerning Pricing, Booking, What style music I play, Where I am currently performing can all be answered there.
Click on the link below…
Want to be kept up to date as to When and Where I will be performing next?
Or be notified when I release a new Post on my Blog?
Click Link below to…
Now you will always be up to date.
Always remember.
No matter where you go…
There you are.
