The young lady took my name and I was the first one in. Mr. Older was there with a suggestion, too; luncheon at the Palace Hotel.
I’m not strong for eating in swell places, but I do like quick contrasts. I had my breakfast in San Quentin, so why not lunch at the Palace?
We had a good meal. While we were eating, Mr. Older suggested that I come down to his ranch for a few days, till I got my bearings again in the outside world and was ready to begin work.
I was glad to do this. It helped get me over the hardest part of the life of the ex-prisoner who intends to go square; the first few weeks out of prison. I went down that night for a week and stayed six months.
I would have been content to stay there always. I was able to do enough on the ranch to pay for my board and shelter, and I liked it. But it was necessary after a while for me to come back to San Francisco and go to work. My room was wanted on the ranch by other men who needed it worse than I did.
Eddie Graney needs no introduction here. I only hope this story has as many readers as he has friends. While he is known and respected for his square decisions as a referee of big fights, I think his fame rests chiefly on the fact that while he has the finest billiard rooms west of—oh, well, west of anywhere—he has not yet learned how to play billiards.
Graney gave me my first job—cashier in his pool room—handling his money. After a few months a better job appeared. With a letter of introduction I saw Mr. B. F. Schlesinger of the Emporium.
“Where did you work last?” he asked.
“At Eddie Graney’s.”
“And before that?”