Chapter 27
Busted! (In 2 Parts)
FIRST PART
By nightfall that first day out of Santa Fe, we were just getting into Oklahoma. We found a campground by the Wichita River, off I-40, but Sally said it gave her the creeps thinking about what happened to Peter Fonda and Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider when they tried camping in a desolate spot, so “Let’s switch drivers and just keep going.”
We arrived in Norman, Oklahoma, after mid-night and headed to the OU campus, the Caravan intact. Then cop lights! We’re all pulled over. A second squad showed up. Then a third, each with cursive curly-Q lettering “Keeping Norman Friendly & Safe.” Five cops in all. They split us up the best they could. Three in the squads, Peaches handcuffed to his Air Stream’s doorhandle after wising off, the rest of us ordered to stand by the road. They checked our stories and asked if they could search our vehicles. Our lawyer Steve jumped in, “Sirs, we’re totally legit. You know you need a search warrant. I’m a lawyer. You had no reason to stop us. We should be on our way. All we’re doing is looking for a Walmart to park overnight and visit a professor friend tomorrow who’s expecting us here in Norman.”
That didn’t work. Those of us standing outside were freezing our butts off praying nobody had any weed, or LSD, or worse, packed away somewhere. The cops had already patted us down and emptied our pockets, and were searching every backpack, every nook and cranny of all three vehicles, regardless of needing a warrant. “Whose initials are ‘SJD’? Whose shaving kit is this?” one of the cops asked. Nobody said anything, but that would be Skip’s. Then two paddy wagons showed up.
Nobody said much while we were all booked into the Norman jail, but Steve kept his tirade going, “What are the charges pray tell! You can’t just deprive citizens of their liberty without a reason! I know the law; you cops obviously don’t. There’s a Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution protecting against unreasonable searches and seizures. Think you’re above the law? You’ll pay for this.”
Sally started actually praying. Eventually Steve got the phone call he was insisting on and called one of his NLG buddies back in the Twin Cities to get going on finding us a local lawyer. We were in three cells, all within shouting distance, and Steve assured us that we would all be cut loose soon. And we were, except Skip, who was booked for possession of cocaine.
Skip and cocaine! We couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t do that, put us and the whole trip at risk. “But yeah, I didn’t know you and Skip were such LSD freaks either,” Sally screamed at Rocky.
“Shut the fuck up, Sally,” Rocky retorted. “It’s not cocaine they found. Skip always travels with a vial of baking soda to brush his teeth with. You should try it – helps with bad breath.”
And sure enough when we showed up at Skip’s arraignment the next morning (after waiting for the morning light in an all-night diner), the prosecutor apologized profusely and told the judge, “. . . indeed the substance suspected to be a controlled substance tested out to be baking soda. There’s nothing to prosecute.” Steve stood up to speak, saying he was a lawyer licensed to practice in Minnesota. The judge then recessed court and asked Skip, Steve and the prosecutor to join him in chambers.
“I know what you’re thinking,” the judge said to Steve, “these cops had no right to search your vehicles or haul you guys in. What are you doing here in town?”
Skip started but Steve cut him off attempting to downplay the political aspect to our trip, “We’re retired folk, met some other retired folks in California. We’re out taking the temperature of America post Donald Trump – we hope post Donald Trump.”
“Well, you can take my temperature right here, right now!” the judge exclaimed. “I’m hot . . . mad as hell about how many cops have a disregard for civil liberties. It started with Trump saying he never read the Constitution. Never read the Constitution and he’s the President of the United States! The cops think they can get away with this because Trump’s bullying, and disrespect for authority, sets the tone, providing permission for others to do the same. It ends up screwing our basic values, our respect for the Constitution. I wouldn’t blame you guys one bit if you sued the pants off these coppers. Maybe it’d wake them up.”
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Finally we got to the professor’s place, a little before noon. Robin was no longer teaching, but was now a Professor Emeritus. He looked much different than any of us expected – not at all like a trust baby or a rich kid. He was wearing beads, in a Nehru jacket, more the aging hippie than retired professor. His pad, although nicely furnished, including some antiques, had a hippie feel too. Robin greeted us, saying he was happy to see so many of us, and almost immediately announced his favorite thing these days was asking anybody new he met: “Have you ever met someone famous or know someone who has met someone famous?” (Claiming this is how he got his material for writing.) And he started right in, “Rocky, I know you have, and I’ve heard you have too, Skip, but what about you?” pointing to Sunshine, still in the pajamas she had on when the bust went down the night before.
Unbelievably, Sunshine claimed her grandmother knew Albert Hoffmann, the inventor of LSD – met him at some psychiatry conference in Oslo. Patty turned her camera on and turned the table on Robin, “How ‘bout you, Professor? Ever met anybody famous?”
“Yeah,” Robin said, “the author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. It was 1964, I was in Oklahoma working on the railroad when Ken Kesey rolled through town.” “And he taught you how to play bridge, if I remember correctly,” Rocky chuckled