-Caveat Lector- Fred: OK, I work maybe half a day, and I suddenly start realizing that something's still wrong with my arm. I couldn't do the work; I mean . . . and this is a company that refuses to give light duty. You either do the job or you don't. And I go in and I try to do the work and I suddenly start realizing I have no strength in my right arm. And there are certain repetitive motions that I have to do, like wrenching. Like if you handle the wrench on the chuck of a lathe or something like that. And I suddenly start realizing that every now and then I'd made this certain move it'd be like a nerve thing, you know, like when you get that crick in your neck, and you get that little hot thing (imitates the sound of a kid's friction motor driven toy car) right up into your head and you go, (imitates the sound of bare thighs settling into a vinyl covered bucket seat that's been out in the parking lot all afternoon) and you twist your head just right . . . I don't know what it's called but it's a nerve thing. So I told the boss, I said, "Boss, I'm having some problems here. I think I'd best go see the doctor." He goes, "All right. You're excused. Go see the doctor. Gimme a call as soon as you talk to him." So I make a phone call, call the doctor. The doctor says come in right away. <nessie>: This was in the new place that you were moving them into? Fred: Yeah. We had already moved them; the move was complete.. <nessie>: How many guys worked there? Fred: Now? <nessie>: Then. Fred: Four. There were four people who were actually machinists. There were a total of eight people working, two engineers . . . <nessie>: . . . and so forth? Fred: Yeah. <nessie>: Four machinists, two engineers, a boss and a secretary. Fred: His wife. <nessie>: His wife and the kid? No? His father? Fred: His father would come in and out. He didn't really do work. In fact he was a dangerous guy to work with. He would make all kinds of mistakes. I couple times I've seen him do kinds of stuff that almost got people killed. It was at the point of . . . he needs to retire. Anyway, the doc says, uh, he's doing these little tests and he's pinching me and he's prodding me and he's doing these things and he goes, "Wow, this is what I worried about." And I go, "What!?! What!?! What!?!" 'Cuz, you know, and he says, "Well it looks like you might have some kind of nerve damage." He goes, "I want you to take another month off, and in that time I want you to do some physical therapy." And he finds me a place to do physical therapy and I do everything I'm told. <nessie>: Did you apply for disability or anything? Fred: Yeah, workman's Comp. <nessie>: You applied? Fred: I was granted it. Instantaneously. The doctor signed papers, no problem. That wasn't much money to get by on. I mean I went from six hundred dollars a week take home, or more, every week, to two hundred and . . . what was it? Two hundred and sixty a week. I had to suddenly, like, start watching money. I mean, I'm a single guy. I'm one of those guys that like to go to clubs. I like to, you know, go to concerts, things like that. I'm not one of those people that, like, you know . . . I believe in living. The war taught me that. So anyway, uh, while I'm off, the second attack from the Unabomber occurred, the one in Sacramento. <nessie>: This is after you went back and found you couldn't do it? Fred: During that time . . . this thing . . . anyway . . . I really can't figure out the actual dates. I can't give you the exact dates. <nessie>: Don't sweat the dates; just give me the order. Fred: This guy attacks again. And this time he mails the FBI this manifesto, and an excerpt of this was printed in the paper. I get really scared by it. It sounds like what this guy was talking to me about. Anyway, a month passes. I'm feeling better. Physical therapy is helping. A few other little sores that popped up disappeared. I'm feeling OK; I go see the doctor, the doctor gives me a release says I can go back to work Monday. I show up on Monday. The boss . . . everyone . . . starts acting weird towards me. I'm going, "What's going on?" He goes, "Man, I don't know. You'll see when the boss gets here." 'Cuz he wasn't there. I go over to my tool box and the tool box has been rifled. I don't know anything about it. But I don't figure out why. <nessie>: But you noticed, right? Say anything to the other guys? Fred: No. I didn't say anything at that point in time because I wasn't really sure how I left it. I mean I left over there, I was in pain. I was, like, not thinking right. <nessie>: Right. Fred: The boss comes out and he hands me a check and he says, "You've been off too much. Basically, we're gonna have to let you go.' I says, "I don't think you can do that.' And he goes, "I'm not only doing it, it's done. Here's your check. I want you to leave the building NOW." He demands it. He grabs me by the arm and I say, "Wait a damn minute!" He goes, "You are leaving NOW or I'm calling the police." I don't need no trouble so I leave the building. <nessie>: And you left your tools? Fred: I didn't even think about my tools or the fact . . . I had my shop shoes on. I didn't even have my street shoes on. And my shop shoes are like, you know, they look like they been in the shop. You don't walk around in them. I mean they look shabby. You look like a street person wearing these 'cuz they're good boots except that they have steel toes and they're all tore up because I work around big heavy equipment. Anyway, I'm escorted out of the building. I leave. Um, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what was going on. <nessie>: He escorted you out of the building? Fred: He escorted me out of the building. He took me by the elbow and led me out of the building. It took me a couple of days after that 'cuz I was in shock, I mean I went out and did what an all American boy does, cash his check and get drunk. Then I sober up. A couple days later I realized I hadn't secured my tools. I called him up and I asked him for permission to secure my tools. He says, "I don't want you coming here, to this factory, unless it's to remove your tools from the building." And I go, "And then you're going to keep an eye on 'em." He goes, "There's nobody here but the people that were working here before." Oh, and I guess I didn't add that when I did go back this last time and he brought me my check, there was somebody else at my work station. I didn't see my tools being used, or I would have really gone off. I mean I left to avoid trouble because he was threatening with the police. I didn't want any more trouble. I figured let's go home. Let's take stock. Let's figure out where we're at. And after I sobered up the next day I figured out OK, let's check out my money; let's check out my bill situation, check out my savings account, and figure out what we're gonna do. Let's get a plan going. I didn't realize at the time . . . two days later a letter arrives talking about the reasons for my termination. And he trumped up this thing. Anyway, he terminated me. This means no unemployment. They then canceled my . . . I was already off disability . . . I called the insurance company saying I paid all this stuff out of pocket. What about my own personal expenses? They say, well submit 'em. I submit 'em; they deny 'em. Turns out he had told the insurance company to stop paying them. I don't know why. <nessie>: At what point? Fred: This is after I'd been terminated. <nessie>: At what point did he tell the insurance company to stop paying? Fred: I have no idea. <nessie>: Before you were terminated? Fred: No idea. <nessie>: That would be interesting to find out. Fred: I don't even know how I can get that kind of information. <nessie>: Your lawyer. Fred: Yeah, the lawyer's the only one who can do it. He'd have to go to the insurance company, the insurance company that handles Workman's Comp. Well anyway, time passes. I'm still . . . I didn't realize how tore up my arm was. I really didn't even come to realize it until after I'd been terminated and another month had passed. I mean, money was by then . . . I was OK, but I was getting a little concerned. I mean I had no income. I was used to living well. I mean it's hard to go from living well to living, uh, existing. And as the money ran out I, of course found it easier to spend (unintelligible) as it was running out. So finally I . . . work was difficult to get. I couldn't use this company as a reference. A lot of things started happening. I started getting hassled by my landlord. Money was running out. I was making partial payments. Finally I went over and applied for welfare. A lot of stuff. Anyway, a couple of months passed before I can get it together to own a vehicle. That's one of the things I had to get rid of in order to keep going. I finally find someone who's willing, who own a vehicle, who's willing to go over and get my tools. I go to the company . . . <nessie>: You had somebody with you? Fred: When I went there the second time, yeah. I kept asking him, well how could I go about getting my tools, get them outa there and get them in storage? I'm concerned about them. I kept making phone calls. Finally he tells me, "I'm only gonna let you remove the tools on a normal working day during normal business hours. 'Cuz, like, I had plenty of chances to do it on Saturday. And I know they work Saturdays. But this guy, the boss of the company, started getting more and more, uh, more and more severe with me, saying that, "You have to make an appointment and I want it three days in advance. You come herewith the person that's the transportation of your tools. It has to be on a normal working day, between nine and five. Then I'll let you have your tools." So finally I get this all together. I have to pay a guy. The money is gone. I'm like, I'm scraping. I get this guy to get my tools, and I'm loading them in the truck, and while I'm standing there, one of the buddies that I had, came out and said that he thought I got a real raw deal. "By the way," he says, "I don't know what you've been up too, but you'd best watch your Ps and Qs because the FBI were here." I said, "What!?!" He said, "I'd look through your tool box real carefully." And right then and there I started doing it. And I noticed my notebook was missing. I keep a daily job log. That's missing. A lot of my electrical equipment was missing. A lot of stuff was missing from my tool box. Little stuff. Stuff I wouldn't even have noticed unless I was looking for it. But it's gone! That's when I went in the office. And I'm like livid at this point in time. I'm pissed off. I go in the office and I say, "Who's been in my tool box? Stuff is missing." He goes, "I just want you out of my company," he goes, "Get your tool box and get the hell outa here. Make a list of stuff that's missing and submit it to me; I'll reimburse you." I look up on the wall and that's when I notice a full page picture of this Unabomber. You know, the sketch, the famous sketch, which now you tell me isn't even of him; it's of the guy you drew . . . <nessie>: I didn't tell you that. I told you I read that in the paper that somebody said that. You can't believe everything you read in the newspapers. Fred: OK <nessie>: But you can believe me when I say I read it in the newspaper. Fred: I remember the picture; I saw it in the paper too. But I noticed a full page one. On the wall! And it wasn't there before. So that's when I go back out and then this guy Jorge, he's out there, he's telling me the FBI's been there and that they have searched the machine shop. They've gone through my tool box. They've taken a box of stuff away. They've talked extensively with the boss and with members of the crew, and largely about me! I didn't know what to think. I'm flabbergasted. So I did the right thing. I just get in the car and get the hell out of there. <nessie>: Was there any way that the boss would know where you lived? Fred: Oh yeah. You have to give your name and address. <nessie>: So they came to your work place but they didn't come to where you live? Fred: Not to my knowledge. <nessie>: But if they got on to you, if they got interested in you when you made your phone call, there was a period of some time before you got hurt and the time after you got hurt where you must have been under surveillance. I mean, doesn't it make sense? Fred: Well, uh, that's like . . . <nessie>: I'm leading the witness, your honor. Fred: When we were talking earlier, that's . . . that makes me wonder, because a couple of things were really unusual that at the time I didn't really give any real significance. <nessie>: Hold on a minute. Cut. (Brief interruption. His anger and resentment, which had been obvious from his tone of voice, had given way to depressed resignation.) Now where were we? I took a break to take a piss. I come back. There's a letter under his door. I give him the letter and let's see . . . he was going to get a job at the Exploratorium, and doing cool stuff, right?" Fred: Yeah. Well they just postponed the addition of another staff member. That's all it is. At this time. They're restructuring. <nessie>: Think you've been blacklisted? Fred: Possibly. I don't know. <nessie>: Think the FBI went around and talked to them? Fred: I dunno. I just don't know any more. <nessie>: Hey, I've lost jobs that way. I lost this one job once . . . I was building jet engines for Pratt and Whitney, you know, and they found out about my record and they canned me. And then they actually wanted me to finish my shift, the sons of bitches, so I wouldn't screw up the quota! Fred: I don't know. I don't know about this one, but that's . . . <nessie>: Well, your life's gone straight to hell since this. Fred: This is not the first time this has happened. Companies have said they were gonna hire me and later changed their minds. This is the third time this has happened since . . . <nessie>: You're a highly skilled man. Fred: I have twenty years experience, and two college degrees. <nessie>: There's no reason you should have reason finding work. I can see some people having trouble finding work, but you? You should be working. Fred: Yeah. That's a weird one. That'll (unintelligible) into it in a way. <nessie>: Well let's back up here a minute. There's this period of time between the phone call to the FBI and the time you go back after being hurt and you find your tools have been messed with and you're fired. You go back to get the tools and THEN your buddy tells you the FBI was here. So, this is a period of, like, four or five months, right? This was last spring, right? Fred: Right. <nessie>: So this was last spring, a period of four or five months when presumably they were interested in you but you didn't know it. They never came to your place. They went to your place of work, but they never came to your place . . . Fred: No. <nessie>: . . . that you know of. Fred: Well during that time I also lost my phone and I, like, really went down hill. I ended up for the first time in my life on welfare. Things have been not very easy. Uh, excuse me, uh, that letter hit me kinda hard there. (His face had begun to look like Daddy had just run over the new puppy on the way to Grandma's funeral.) One time I got some extra work, side work, and I did the side work, put the money in my pocket, a couple hundred bucks, I thought I'd go out and buy a nice lunch. I go to this club called Sam's 58 Club over on Heinz Ave. <nessie>: Know the place well. Fred: Yeah, nice place. It was good to be working near the bar, near the bar in Berkeley. Anyway, I go in there about two o'clock and . . . <nessie>: That where you know Clance from? Fred: No. (laughs) I know Clance from another bar. We knew all the same people, we just never ran into each other, but anyway . . . fuck! What was I saying? <nessie>: You're outa work. All the working guys have eaten lunch. They go back to work. You're hanging out, having a beer, and what happens? Fred: We were talking about this FBI thing, and the Unabomber and stuff, and . . . <nessie>: Who we? Sam and Bruno. . . Fred: Sam and a couple people. I don't even know who they were. We were talking about it. And shortly after I got there a guy in a cheap suit, tie loose, top button undone, sits down at the other end of the bar. I didn't even really pay him no nevermind. <nessie>: A suit? In Sam's? Fred: A cheap suit. <nessie>: A cheap suit goes in Sam's? I've never seen a suit in there. Fred: Yeah, well there he is, wingtips, the whole nine yards. I didn't pay much attention to it. He's sitting down the other end of the bar drinking water. I believe it was water; it may have been soda juice. And we're talking and I look up and I notice he's moved up towards me a couple of seats. <nessie>: Towards the window? Fred: Yeah. Me and a couple of guys are sitting by the window. They're very nice guys, and we're sitting around talking about various things. I look up again, and this guy's moved up again. Now he's sitting about five seats away. I pay no nevermind to him. We're still sitting there. The conversation continues. We're drinking. We're having fun. I look up again and the guy's three feet away. And I think he's paying attention to what we're saying. So I finally turn to him and I say, "Can I help you?" And he says, "No. No, I'm just having a couple . . . " (Brief interruption while I notice the tape has run out and I put in a new one.) <nessie>: So we're at Sam's bar and the guy's paying too much attention to you and you up and walk out, don't give it much thought at the time. OK, let's back up to the point where you've lost your phone and you're on welfare and you're scraping by, and welfare sucks; it's just a way the government gives money to landlords . . . Fred: Right. <nessie>: . . . and that's what welfare is. So you lose your phone. So what happens? Fred: I left it connected. I mean I didn't unplug it. I didn't have it disconnected. And I never tied all this stuff together before but this weird stuff kept happening. Like, even though it was disconnected, it would ring in the middle of the night. It'd ring a couple, three times, and I'd pick it up and I go, "Hello?" No one would answer. A dead line. All the time it would sit there on the table and it would make these chirping noises. It would, like, make these noises. The thing's supposed to be disconnected! So finally one night I just figured this is too weird and I just pulled the cord and wrapped it up and you see it sitting next to you. I mean I never really tied all this stuff together. But a phone line, connected or disconnected . . . I mean a microphone can be a microphone, right? <nessie>: Hey. It can be on the cradle and they can listen to everything in the room. From downtown. Yeah, they can do that. You never started putting this stuff together until, like, two hours ago when I mentioned this the first time? Fred: Yeah, really. I didn't really key on it all. <nessie>: If I hadn't asked you if in that period of time there were weird things that . . . FRED: There were a couple of things, yes, that I was suspicious about . . . <nessie>: That you noticed? Fred: Yeah, that I noticed. <nessie>: Did you connect them to the FBI being at your work place? Fred: No. But there were things like I saw this car and there were two guys in it. And I'd see it again, and I'd see it again, and the same two guys would be in it! I never really tied . . . I mean they might have been following me around, seeing who I knew, what I'm talking about. I had no idea! To this day I have no idea. I don't understand this at all (waves the letter I found under his door around) because they told me I was hired! And now all of a sudden, out of nowhere I get a letter saying we've decided not to expand our staff. This is like two weird. I mean, like, this is the third time this has happened to me! This is the third time! In a six month period! <nessie>: Now listen; now look. Hold on. I can see you being upset on account of you not getting the job and you need the money. OK? But you gotta cut it off there and don't start putting yourself down for it, because, this is not your fault. Fred: Well if they are doing this, when are they gonna leave me alone, man? 'Cuz this shouldn't happen three times! I cannot believe that every company that expresses interest in me and told me that they wanted me to come back and wanna hire me, I can't believe that all three of these companies are restructuring like that. I can't believe they'd just make a job and then not fill it. I mean, what is going on here? What is going on here? <nessie>: For the benefit of the people reading this later, I should mention that this guy is white. OK, so they're giving you what's called the "nigger shuffle." It's what any Black person in America knows he's getting when he's not getting that job or not getting that apartment that he knows is there, but they're smiling at him and being polite anyway but they lie through their teeth. Happens alla time. Bosses do it; landlords . . . just not all that often to white folks. Most white folks, that is. Fred: . . . this is the third time, man! <nessie>: Hey, welcome to the club. Fred: The second time I'm suspicious. The third time, now, I'm like . . . You know, that just cemented it! I mean, I don't know if I'm just being paranoid 'cuz of our conversation, but that just pretty much cemented it. This is three times in a six, no a four month period that this has happened. <nessie>: This is everyday life for a lotta people, lotta Black people especially, Brown too. But you're a white guy, a white guy with tools and a solid resume. Happens to you, there's another reason; ain't racism. Something else. 'Cuz you have a skill that is in demand. Fred: Hey! If it's in demand, why's this keep happening? <nessie>: A guy I know, newspaper guy, he has this saying. I don't know where he got this; maybe he made it up. But it does make sense. He says, "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action." Fred: It's getting to be like this. Man, just can't believe this. <nessie>: I just can't believe it's you. There's nothing wrong with you. I can't believe that. It's not you; it's happening to you. Fred: Hey I'm no bother to anybody. I never killed anybody outside of the military. <nessie>: Right. And you're not a fuck up, either Fred: I'm a good machinist. I got stuff up in orbit right now. Stuff I made went up on the space shuttle. I'm damn good at what I do. I can cut a piece of mettle to within ten thousands of an inch. That's one thirtieth of the diameter of a human hair. And I can make it right. The first time. I'm not a screw up. <nessie>: You're not a screw up. You have a good work record. Up until this . . . Fred: Up until this last two years, yeah. Last two years things been kinda little shaky. But that's because of industrial accidents. I've had two of 'em now. <nessie>: What's the second one? Fred: (shows me a hideous scar) That's second and third degree burns.. Skin grafts. <nessie>: How'd that happen? Fred: Industrial robot flipped out on me. <nessie>: Same company? Fred: No. <nessie>: Did you have any problem with Workman's Comp or anything over this one? Fred: Well yeah. They're paying candy on this one, too. (At this point the tape ran out. We drank on. We may even have said something interesting. But you get the idea by now. Helping the Feds doesn't pay.) DECLARATION & DISCLAIMER ========== CTRL is a discussion and informational exchange list. Proselyzting propagandic screeds are not allowed. Substance�not soapboxing! These are sordid matters and 'conspiracy theory', with its many half-truths, misdirections and outright frauds is used politically by different groups with major and minor effects spread throughout the spectrum of time and thought. That being said, CTRL gives no endorsement to the validity of posts, and always suggests to readers; be wary of what you read. CTRL gives no credeence to Holocaust denial and nazi's need not apply. Let us please be civil and as always, Caveat Lector. ======================================================================== Archives Available at: http://home.ease.lsoft.com/archives/CTRL.html http:[EMAIL PROTECTED]/ ======================================================================== To subscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SUBSCRIBE CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] To UNsubscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SIGNOFF CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] Om
