“And then,” according to Mr. Helm’s memory of the episode, “somebody asked him was he a hitchhiker? Hitchhiking his way to New Mexico? No, he said, he was driving his own car. And it was parked down the lane a piece. So everybody went to look at the car. When they found what was inside it, one of the men -maybe it was Al Dewey – said to him, told this Jonathan Daniel Adrian, ‘Well, mister, seems like we’ve got something to discuss.’ Because, inside the car, what they’d found was a .12-gauge shotgun. And a hunting knife.”
A room in a hotel in Mexico City. In the room was an ugly modern bureau with a lavender-tinted mirror, and tucked into a corner of the mirror was a printed warning from the Management:
Su dia termina a las 2 p.m. Your day ends at 2 p.m.
Guests, in other words, must vacate the room by the stated hour or expect to be charged another day’s rent – a luxury that the present occupants were not contemplating. They wondered only whether they could settle the sum already owed. For everything had evolved as Perry had prophesied: Dick had sold the car, and three days later the money, slightly less than two hundred dollars, had largely vanished. On the fourth day Dick had gone out hunting honest work, and that night he had announced to Perry, “Nuts! You know what they pay? What the wages are? For an expert mechanic?
Two bucks a day. Mexico! Honey, I’ve had it. We got to make it out of here. Back to the States. No, now, I’m not going to listen. Diamonds. Buried treasure. Wakeup, little boy. There ain’t no caskets of gold. No sunken ship. And even if there was – hell, you can’t even swim.” And the next day, having borrowed money from the richer of his two fiancés, the banker’s widow, Dick bought bus tickets that would take them, via San Diego, as far as Barstow, California. “After that,” he said, “we walk.”
Of course, Perry could have struck out on his own, stayed in Mexico, let Dick go where he damn well wanted. Why not? Hadn’t he always been “a loner,” and without any “real friends” (except the gray-haired, gray-eyed, and “brilliant” Willie-Jay)? But he was afraid to leave Dick; merely to consider it made him feel “sort of sick,” as though he were trying to make up his mind to “jump off a train going ninety-nine miles an hour.” The basis of his fear, or so he himself seemed to believe, was a newly grown superstitious certainty that “whatever had to happen won’t happen” as long as he and Dick “stick together.”
Then, too, the severity of Dick’s “wake-up” speech, the belligerence with which he proclaimed his theretofore concealed opinion of Perry’s dreams and hopes – all this, perversity being what it is, appealed to Perry, hurt and shocked him but charmed him, almost revived his former faith in the tough, the “totally masculine,” the pragmatic, the decisive Dick he’d once allowed to boss him. And so, since a sunrise hour on a chilly Mexico City morning in early December, Perry had been prowling about the unheated hotel room assembling and packing his possessions – stealthily, lest he waken the two sleeping shapes lying on one of the room’s twin beds: Dick, and the younger of his betrotheds, Inez.
There was one belonging of his that need no longer concern him. On their last night in Acapulco, a thief had stolen the Gibson guitar – absconded with it from a waterfront cafe” where he, Otto, Dick, and the Cowboy had been bidding one another a highly alcoholic goodbye. And Perry was bitter about it. He felt, he later said, “real mean and low,” explaining, “You have a guitar long enough, like I had that one, wax and shine it, fit your voice to it, treat it like it was a girl you really had some use for – well, it gets to be kind of holy.” But while the purloined guitar presented no ownership problem, his remaining property did.
As he and Dick would now be traveling by foot or thumb, they clearly could not carry with them more than a few shirts and socks. The rest of their clothing would have to be shipped – and, indeed, Perry had already filled a cardboard carton (putting into it – along with some bits of unlaundered laundry – two pairs of boots, one pair with soles that left a Cat’s Paw print, the other pair with diamond-pattern soles) and addressed it to himself, care of General Delivery, Las Vegas, Nevada.
But the big question, and source of heartache, was what to do with his much-loved memorabilia -the two huge boxes heavy with books and maps, yellowing letters, song lyrics, poems, and unusual souvenirs (suspenders and a belt fabricated from the skins of Nevada rattlers he himself had slain; an erotic netsuke bought in Kyoto; a petrified dwarf tree, also from Japan; the foot of an Alaskan bear). Probably the best solution – at least, the best Perry could devise – was to leave the stuff with “Jesus.” The “Jesus” he had in mind tended bar in a cafe across the street from the hotel, and was, Perry thought, muy simpatico, definitely someone he could trust to return the boxes on demand. (He intended to send for them as soon as he had a “fixed address.”)
Still, there were some things too precious to chance losing, and while the lovers drowsed and time dawdled on toward 2:00 p.m., Perry looked through old letters, photographs, clippings, and selected from them those mementos he meant to take with him. Among them was a badly typed composition entitled “A History of My Boy’s Life.” The author of this manuscript was Perry’s father, who in an effort to help his son obtain a parole from Kansas State Penitentiary, had written it the previous December and mailed it to the Kansas State Parole Board. It was a document that Perry had read at least a hundred times, never with indifference:
Childhood – Be glad to tell you, as I see it, both good and bad. Yes, Perry birth was normal. Healthy – yes. Yea, I was able to care for him properly until my wife turned out to be a disgraceful drunkard when my children were at school age. Happy disposition – yes and no, very serious if mistreated he never forgets. I also keep my promises and make him do so. My wife was different. We lived in the country. We are all truly outdoor people. I taught my children the Golden Rule.
Live & let live and in many cases my children would tell on each other when doing wrong and the guilty one would always admit, and come forward, willing for a spanking. And promise to be good, and always done their work quickly and willing so they could be free to play. Always wash themselves first thing in the morning, dress in clean clothes, I was very strict about that, and wrong doings to others, and if wrong was done to them by other kids I made them quit playing with them.
Our children were no trouble to us as long as we were together. It all started when my wife wanted to go to the City and live a wild life – and ran away to do so. I let her go and said goodbye as she took the car and left me behind (this was during depression). My children all cryed at the top of their voices. She only cussed them saying they would run away to come to me later. She got mad and then said she would turn the children to hate me, which she did, all but Perry. For the love of my children after several months I went to find them, located them in San Francisco, my wife not knowing. I tryed to see them in school. My wife had given orders to the teacher not to let me see them. However, I managed to see them while playing in the school yard and was surprised when they told me, “Mama told us not to talk to you.”
All but Perry. He was different. He put his arms around me and wanted to run away with me rite then. I told him No. But rite after school was out, he ran away to my lawyers office Mr. Rinso Turco. I took my boy back to his mother and left the City. Perry later told me, his mother told him to find a new home.
While my children were with her they run around as they pleased, I understand Perry got into trouble. I wanted her to ask for divorce, which she did after about a year or so. Her drinkin and stepin out, living with a young man. I contested the divorce and was granted full custody of the children. I took Perry to my home to live with me. The other children were put in homes as I could not manage to take them all in my home and them being part indian blood and welfare took care of them as I requested.
This was during depression time. I was working on W.P.A. very small wages. I owned some property and small home at the time. Perry and I lived together peacefully. My heart was hurt, as I still loved my other children also. So I took
