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Posts published by “Jake Rohrer”

Irrevocable Momentum

Tony Serra was a fascinating individual and I liked him right away. He was highly principled and his repu­tation as a fierce opponent in the courtroom was widely held. He was eager to defend the underdog and those subject to racial injustice.

The Fortunate Son Redux

Big Dog came by the house on a Friday afternoon, late in the day. Watching his arrival from the front room I could tell by…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 17

My attorney finally showed up and filled me in on what was going on. The feds had convened a grand jury to hammer my old…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 16

“When we're gone, long gone, the only thing that will have mattered,  Is the love that we shared, and the way that we cared,  When…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 15

Again to immeasurable delight, baseball was a serious undertaking at Camp Fed. Slow-pitch softball rather than the purist form of hardball, but there was an…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 14

I arrived at the camp and waltzed into a private room with my brother and roommates, Artie and Lance. We were on the third floor of B-unit, overlooking the ball field and groves of pine and eucalyptus. Robbin had everything set up for me. He showed up in the middle of my check-in and immediately started harassing the guard (aka “hack”) in the good natured manner at which he excels.

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 13

A concrete stairwell provided an interesting place for me to play my guitar, an old Martin that belonged to a good friend, Harry Jackson, who…

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 12

I had gone to bed secure in the knowledge that tomorrow would be Saturday and the prison would be on its free and easy weekend schedule. A light breakfast wouldn't be served until 7:00 AM and if you wanted to sleep in, there would be a brunch at 10:30. I was rudely awakened at 3:30 AM with a firm shake of my foot by a black, female duty-guard.

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 11

The months following my discharge from John's employ were hard ones, on me and those around me. I was living with an engaging and bright woman in San Francisco, estranged from my wife and family, and I was floundering.

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 10

Following the breakup of CCR, John kept me employed for another four years or so. We moved out of the “Factory” and set up shop in a temporary office on San Pablo Avenue in Albany.

A Memoir: The Fortunate Son, Part 9

The person who would most connect me to the memory of my father and his generation was Max Halsey. For at least one chapter of his lifetime Max worked in the automobile business, oftentimes for my father.

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