A squat man with dark, curly hair and a sardonic smile, Jack had applied to be a student shortly after Rama's 1982 Berkeley lecture series. He had allowed the Bay Area postering crew to use his house as a base of operation, and seemed willing to help his new spiritual teacher in any way that he could. When Rama closed the San Francisco Centre, Jack sold his house and moved to southern California, where he continued to run an Oakland-based fruit distribution company.
Each week I stopped by Jack's Malibu apartment to pick up a crate of fruit for Rama, who lived down the block near Point Dume. Before I left, Jack slipped me a small, brown, paper bag.
"That's for you," he said.
"Thanks," I replied and I pulled out a plum.
One time I asked him how he could run a company that was hundreds of miles away.
"By making a lot of phone calls."
Another time I invited him to see a movie.
"Can't make it," he told me. "I need to take a client out to dinner."
I nodded. "Big deal coming up?"
"Yeah."