And I said, "I wanted to go there too." And that was the end of this
little girl's conversation with myself.
I called that number, as I am repeating myself. There was no such
number. It was an obsolete number.
I go down to the--I drive by--I leave the delicatessen--the clerk
helped me with the sandwiches out to my car, and I thanked him. I told
him, "These were going to KLIF, and I want you to make them real good."
He helped me with the sandwiches in the car. I got in the car and drove
down toward town. I imagine it is about 4 or 5 miles to the downtown
section from this delicatessen.
But prior to going into the station, I drove up McKinney Avenue to look
over a couple of clubs to see if they were activating. I knew the club
across from the Phil's Delicatessen and I knew the B. & B. Restaurant
was open. That is a restaurant and I know the necessity for food, but I
can't understand some of the clubs remaining open. It struck me funny
at such a tragic time as that happening.
I drove down to Commerce and Harwood and parked my car with my
dog--incidentally, I always have my dog with me--on the lot there,
left the sandwiches in the car, went into the building of the police
station, took the elevator up to the second floor, and there was a
police officer there.
This is the first time I ever entered the building, gentlemen. The
first time of that Friday. This time it must have been about--I
mean the time, the time of my entering the building, I guess, was
approximately 11:15 p.m.