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.
I said, "Anyone home?"
She said, "No."
I said, "Is your daddy or mommy home?" I forget what transpired. I said, "I would like to get the number of the station so I can get in the building at this time."
She said she would go and see, and gave me a Riverside exchange.
Mind you, this is 6 or 7 months back, gentlemen.
And I asked her name. Her name was Christine, I think. I said, "I wanted to bring some sandwiches."
She said, "My mother already brought sandwiches."
And I said, "I wanted to go there too." And that was the end of this little girls 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.
The officer was there, and I said, "Where is Joe Long?"
I said, "Can I go and look for him?"
Evidently I took a little domineering part about me, and I was able to be admitted. I asked different reporters and various personalities there, "Are you Joe Long?," and I couldn't locate him.
I even had a police officer try to page him and he couldn't locate him.
I recognized a couple of police officers, Cal Jones and a few others, and I said "hello" to them.
And I am still looking for Joe Long, but I am carried away with the excitement of history.
And one fellow then--I am in the hallway there--there is a narrow hallway, and I don't recall if Captain Fritz or Chief Curry brings the prisoner out, and I am standing about 2 or 3 feet away from him, and there is some reporters that didn't know the various police officers, and I don't know whether they asked me or I volunteered to tell them, because I knew they were looking to find out who that was, and I said, "That was Chief Curry" or "That is Captain Fritz," or whoever it was.
I don't recall Henry Wade coming out in the hallway. He probably did. I don't recall what happened.
(To Joe Tonahill) Is that for me, Joe?
Then suddenly someone asked, either the Chief or Captain Fritz, "Isn't there a larger room we can go into?"

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