And I made it my business to drive down Preston Road. In my mind
suddenly it mulled over me that the police department was working
overtime. And this is the craziest thing that ever happened in a
person's life. I have always been very close to the police department,
I don't know why.
I felt I have always abided by the law--a few little infractions, but
not serious--and I felt we have one of the greatest police forces in
the world here, and I have always been close to them, and I visited in
the office.
And over the radio I heard they were working overtime.
I stopped at the delicatessen called Phil's on Oak Lawn Avenue, and
suddenly I decided--I told the clerk there I wanted him to make me some
real good sandwiches, about 10 or 12, and he had already started on the
sandwiches and I got on the phone.
I called an officer by the name of Sims and I said, "Sims, I hear you
guys are working," and so on. I said, "I want to bring some sandwiches."
And he said, "Jack, we wound up our work already. We wound up what we
were doing. We are finished what we were doing. I will tell the boys
about your thoughtfulness, and I will thank them for you."
In the meantime, there is a fellow in town that has been very good to
me named Gordon McLendon. Do you know him, Mr. Warren?
Chief Justice WARREN. I think I do not.
Mr. RUBY. He had been giving me a lot of free plugs. And all the while
listening to the radio, I heard about a certain diskjockey, Joe Long,
that is down at the station, giving firsthand information--I want to
describe him--of Oswald.
Very rarely do I use the name Oswald. I don't know why. I don't know
how to explain it--of the person that committed the act. [Pause to
compose self.]
So before going down to the police station, I try to call KLIF but
can't get their number.
I wanted to bring the sandwiches to KLIF so they would have the
sandwiches, since they already started to make them up.
And I remember Russ Knight, a diskjockey--these names aren't familiar
to you, but I have to mention them in order to refresh my memory.
His name was Moore, or something, and I tried to get information on the
telephone, but they couldn't give me the phone number of his home.
I probably thought I could get the phone number, but after 6 p.m., you
cannot get into the premises unless you have a "hot" number that is
right to the diskjockey room.
So I couldn't get a hold of that.
But in the meantime, I called Gordon McLendon's home, because I know
he lives near the synagogue out there, and I got a little girl on the
phone, and I knew they had children, and I asked for the number for
KLIF.