And about 7:30 I went to my apartment. I don't know if I went downtown to the club. I know I went to my apartment—either to the club or to the apartment.
And I changed, showered and shaved, and I think I drove—and as I drove down, there is a certain Thornton Freeway, and I saw the clubs were still open going full blast, a couple of clubs there.
Anyway, I went out to the synagogue and I went through the line and I spoke to Rabbi Silverman, and I thanked him for going to visit my sister at the hospital. She was in a week prior and had just gotten out. I don't remember the date.
Then he had a confirmation—this is the night prior to the confirmation. They serve little delicacies. So in spite of the fact of the mood I was in, I strolled into the place, and I think I had a little glass of punch. Nothing intoxicating, just a little punch they serve there. I didn't speak to anyone. One girl, Leona, said "Hello, Jack," and I wasn't in a conversational mood whatsoever.
I left the club—I left the synagogue and I drove by the Bali-Hai Restaurant. I noticed they were open. I took recognition of that.
I drove by another club called the Gay Nineties, and they were closed.
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.