by Earl Nelson
They got it straightened out before he placed me under arrest for impersonating a Marshal. My passport convinced the New York police but he thought it could be counterfeit.
At least he made a phone call before he took action on his jumped conclusion.
The Detective told me that the police on the scene recognized me and knew my history so they believed I was who my documents said I was. It wouldn’t have looked good for NYPD to let a VIP be arrested falsely.
I protested that I wasn’t a real VIP, people read too much into it. I don’t know why I even bothered as past President Hoover walked into the room about then.
The cop just looked at me, shook his head, and said, “Sure you’re not.”
He gave a respectful, “Mr. President,” as he left.
Chapter 37
President Hoover just stood there and looked at me.
“It is hard to believe that anyone could get into as much trouble as you can Rick. It is even more surprising that you can survive it. How are you doing, son?”
“Fine other than the pain, they tell me I will have it for a few more days, then it will tone down.”
“Did they tell you about the guy you killed?”
“No.”
“He had a rap sheet a mile long. He had in and out of Sing Sing most of his life. He had beaten two murder charges. He had been put away for armed robbery three times. He was just bad news.”
“What I’m trying to say is don’t feel guilty about shooting him.”
“I don’t.”
“Then you are most unusual.”
“It's not the first time I have shot someone.”
“I wasn’t aware?”
I told him about the bank robbers in Colorado. Those were the only ones I related. My problems with the KGB would be best left alone.
“I’m glad for you, Rick. Most people suffer mentally when they have done the right thing. It is the rare person who can separate the evil they had to do from themselves.”
“Yes, killing is evil, but it is not wrong to kill true evil. Our mines have a hard time separating the two. That is why so many soldiers end up shell shocked.”
I’m not certain how I felt about that. It was good that I could do the right things without feeling false remorse. At the same time, it made it easier to kill. It shouldn’t be easy.
I shook aside that self-destructive line of thinking and asked him if he knew how I could get a decent cheeseburger around here. I was hungry.
He told me he had no idea how to do that, he was only an ex-president, not Mandrake the Magician able to summon good food in a hospital.
He told me he would stop in later in the week to see how I was doing. Also, he would like to meet my parents. He assumed they would be coming here.
I told him he was correct and that they would be staying at my suite at the Waldorf. That gave me a thought. The next Roger came to see me I would ask him to see if I could obtain a permanent suite there.
That was the end of my visitors for the day. A nurse informed me reporters were trying to get in to see me but they had fended them off. One had even tried it dress as a nurse. I asked how they had recognized her as a fraud.
“It was easy, there are no male nurses.”
We both got a good laugh out of that. I did ask her to have a hospital administrator stop by when they could. The only way to stop the reporters was to give them something.
“I will but the administration will be coming up here anyway. They want to know how they will be paid.”
“Will they take a check?”
“Yes, once they are certain it is good.”
I thought maybe I should just buy the darn place.
“I pretty sure it will be clear.”
“You will be surprised how much this is going to cost. It will be in the hundreds.”
I chuckled at that thought.
“I may have enough in my wallet.”
She looked at me like I had two heads. I asked her to hand me my wallet which was in a bin with my other few belongings like my watch and signet ring.
She did and I counted out seven one hundred dollar bills.
“Do you think this will be enough?”
“Are you married? If not I could divorce my husband and go with you.”
I laughed at that, she couldn’t be serious, could she? From the look on my face, she knew she had me. She smiled and said, “Gotcha.”
That was good, the last thing I needed was a fifty-some-year-old lady as my wife. Now I grant you she was a good looking fifty, but come on!
By this time I was exhausted, I slept all night, that is I would have if they hadn’t woken me every two hours to give a pill, a shot, take my blood pressure, rewrap my wound. I got grumpy when one asked for my autograph.
I signed her nurse's cap, It was one of those funny-looking ones they all wore.
The next morning my parents came in. I had to go through the whole incident with them. Mum told me I needed more time on the shooting range and a weapon with more stopping power. She suggested a 357 magnum but one of those wouldn’t right in my suit coats.
There was no excuse for not taking him down on the first shot. My Mum is so tender and loving. Well at least with me. Bad guys not so much.
My doctor came in and went over my condition with my parents. The prognosis was good. I just had to take it easy and not tear the wound open.
As soon as he left a Hospital Administrator came in. He had a stack of forms to be signed. They were releases and payment forms. He asked Dad to sign them.
He got an ornery look. Rick is emancipated. He is on his own legally. Have him sign them and pay you. The administrator guy, a short mousey looking guy looked alarmed.
I asked how much the first bill would be.
“Six hundred and fifty-eight dollars to date. Before you are released it will probably be another couple of hundred.”
“Oh is that all?”
I knew I had seven hundred dollars on me so grabbed my wallet, handed them to him, and asked for a receipt.
I know petty of me, but I couldn’t resist it.
To give him due credit he didn’t bat an eyelash.
“I will be right back.”
While he was gone I asked Dad if he would get a check cashed for me. He would, so I wrote one for a thousand.
Dad smiled when he saw it, we are a long way from Bellefontaine. That reminds me, the High School shipped your bull riding and golf championship trophies to Jackson House.
They kept the ones you won as part of the golf team. They needed the room. Where do you want them?
I don’t know, just stick them in my bedroom for now. Mum wasn’t for that.
“I will have a display case built to show them off in the library. Between you and Mary there is quite a collection.”
“What is Mary’s for?”
“Save the puppies and her other charity work.”
“What other charity work?”
“Save the kittens of course. Now she is looking at horse rescues, especially ponies.”
I wondered what her slogans would be.
My parents said all the loving, worried words one would expect and told me to be careful. Like I could get in trouble in a hospital bed.
The hospital administrator came back, grumbling as he came in the door with my receipt in hand.
“These reporters won’t give up they keep trying to sneak in.”
I asked, “Would it help if I had a press conference here?”
“It can’t hurt, even if it made half of them move on it would be worth it.”
“Do you have a room we could use?”
“Since this is a teaching hospital we have an auditórium which will seat a hundred.”
“That should work. Ask my doctor if it would be okay and what we need to do.”
‘I will take care of everything, anything to get these damn people out of here.”
�
��The sooner the better.”
“Then I had better get going, and thank you for doing this, it has disrupted our patient care and I don’t like that.”
Who would have thought the mousey looking administrator cared about the hospital and patients and would go to war if needed. It must be true that you can’t judge a book by its cover.
I almost did get in trouble because of my next visit. It was the owner of the jewelry store that had been robbed. I thought he had stopped in to see how I was doing and to thank me.
After introductions, I asked him if he knew how the guard was doing.
“I don’t know, the smuck shouldn’t have chased him and got shot. If he thinks I owe him anything he has another think coming.”
This attitude took me aback but I didn’t respond.
“I stopped in because I’m thinking about suing you for disrupting my business. Your shooting that guy caused me to close my doors for almost half a day. You owe me at least a thousand bucks for that.”
“Go ahead and sue.”
“You will regret this I know people.”
“Okay so do I.”
“Yeah, you’re a big shot actor, I know the guys on the docks.”
Better call Popeye.
Chapter 38
I told the jewelry store owner, “When you talk to the guys on guys on the docks ask them to check with Popeye or Mr. Lucky first, be sure to use my name.”
The guy looked uncertain as he left.
At my request, they had hooked up a telephone in my room. I called Roger at the hotel. He was sitting with my parents. I asked him to check on who owned the building the jewelry store was in.
I was interested in buying it, at a premium price if needed. The phone was loud enough that Dad could hear me. He took the phone from Roger and asked what was going on.
I explained the situation. He told me he would take care of it. As far as the building went, he would buy it. He had been thinking about real estate in New York City so this might be a good start. It in the right location.
Mum then took the phone.
“We weren’t gone half an hour and you were in trouble in that hospital bed, now Richard Edward Jackson keep out of trouble!”
She then softened it with, “At least for the rest of the day. Love you son.”
About that time the Administrator came back. He had arranged the press conference for six o’clock which an hour and a half from now. The doctor had approved it if I was in a wheelchair the whole time.
No standing and putting pressure on the stitches. I began to wonder how strong his stitches were, maybe he used the wrong thread?
Mum and Dad kept me company while the nurses got me ready for the conference. The nurses had planned to have me in a hospital gown. I wouldn’t stand for that.
Mum and Dad saved the day, they had brought a suit and along with a complete change of clothes for when I got discharged. After some back and forth my Doctor was the final judge. He told the ladies it was okay for me to wear real clothes.
Then it became an argument between two of the younger nurses as to who would dress me. The head nurse or at least senior by age took over and told them she would help me.
Mum looked happy with this arrangement. Dad mouthed a, “Sorry.”
Between one thing and another, I was on the stage for the interview at the right time.
The room was full. Later I found that only half were reporters. The rest were staff on break, or who had snuck away from their jobs.
As soon as I went on stage the shouted questions started. I had learned how to handle this a long time ago. I just sat there in my chair.
The shouting finally died down. Since this was a teaching auditórium it had a full sound system with microphones for students to ask questions and of course for the teacher to answer.
When it was finally quiet I pointed to a gentleman I had met before and who hadn’t been shouting.
“The gentleman from the New York Times, your question sir.”
“Jason Blair New York Times, the pólice reports state that you identified yourself as a US Marshal and had the badge and credentials to prove it.”
“Is that question?”
“Are you a US Marshal?”
“No comment. The gentleman in the second row on the end with a blue tie.”
“Drew Pearson, the Washington Post, are you in the habit of going armed?”
“No comment, the gentleman two rows back with the pork pie hat. I thought pork pie hats went out with Mickey Rooney.”
“Ed Norton the LA Times, first of all, Mickey Rooney is still alive and well, second of all why won’t you comment on the questions?”
“No comment, the lady in the last row.”
“Hedda Hopper syndicated columnist. Are you having an affair with Elizabeth Taylor?”
“Most definitely not, her latest husband would shoot me, and I don’t need any more bullet holes. I don’t want to think what Nina Monroe my girlfriend would say and do.”
“That's it no more questions.”
I signaled my accompanying nurse to wheel me off. I liked this type of news conference. Mum and Dad were waiting off stage.
I told them with a large smile, I think that went well?”
Dad started to say something twice but stopped each time. Mum just shook her head. We could still hear the reporters yelled like stuck pigs.
The Hospital Administrator was standing there. He had a smile on his face.
“I have dreaded press conferences my whole tenure in this job. You have given me a lesson on how to handle the beasts. Thank you oh great one.”
I was wheeled back to my room. Once there I was returned to bed. When my suit coat was removed my white shirt was bloody. The stitches had pulled out.
The Doctor was summoned and he sewed me up once again. I think he skimped on the numbing agent. Also, I accused him of using 100 weight quilting thread the first time.
He didn’t see the humor in it. I think that is was I didn’t get much novocaine.
Mum and Dad didn’t seem too sympathetic or even to appreciated my sense of humor. Dad leaned over and slipped a small package under my pillow. Open when you are alone.
I waited until they had left and the nurses went back to their station. I was correct in my guess of what the package contained. It was a semi-automatic pistol. A Walther P 38.
The police had retained my 38 as part of their investigation. This was normal in any shooting. They needed to be certain that the bullets in the bad guy were fired from my gun.
I pulled out the clip and it was full, working the slide showed one had been in the spout. I reloaded the pistol. My parents cared.
There was no guard on my door. If I had committed a crime I would have had police there. I wasn’t going to be a witness since the only one involved was dead so they didn’t think I needed protection from anyone.
In that sense they were correct. They didn’t include reporters in their concerns. I know that my ‘press conference,’ hadn’t ended their questions.
I had just put it on record that it wouldn’t be easy to get their questions answered about being a US Deputy Marshal.
President Eisenhower had made me a special Marshal. I don’t know if President Kennedy knew or would continue it if he found out.
This was a no-win for me. If I came out and told the story, then the cat would be out of the bag. By refusing to answer I had a least a chance of it not becoming known.
As I shortly found out, there was no chance of keeping it a secret. The Deputy US Marshal who had questioned my authenticity at the crime scene knocked on my door frame and walked in.
He was here for one of two reasons, to collect my badge and credentials or tell me I was still a Marshal.
“For a reason which I wasn’t told and which I disagree with you remain a special Deputy US Marshal.”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you the complete story but no one said I could
n’t tell why I am a Marshal. For reasons which must remain undisclosed, the KGB has made multiple attempts on my life because of services rendered to the United States government.”
“President Eisenhower made me a Marshall, and apparently, President Kennedy is continuing this.”
“Thank you for sharing that. At least I now know there is a good reason. May I tell anyone else?”
“I don’t see why not, the Soviets certainly know. Just try to keep it within the Marshal service.”
“Thanks again.”
After he left I slept. It was a good thing because I needed to try to sleep twenty hours a day to get eight hours in, the nurses were relentless in their rounds.
After sleep food was high on my list. The food is not bad, it is just bland. The next time I get shot I think I will demand the ambulance stop for Tobasco sauce on the way to the hospital.
Better yet have some smuggled in like Dad did the pistol.
Nina came into my room late in the afternoon. She had finished her photoshoot and was on her way back to school. After a hug and kisses, she let me know that her mother was safe with her sister.
I told her about my conversation with the insurance company, the money was her mothers, free and clear.
She asked if it would be okay if she could take her friends on a tour of the aircraft. I told her that was no problem. I wrote out a quick note for her to give to the flight crew.
I thought we had talked this over before. It wouldn’t hurt for the crew to having it in writing. We exchanged more kisses and I may have tried to grope a little. If I did I was rebuffed.
“Down big boy. I will come to visit you when you get back to England.”
“TTFN.”
Chapter 39
After Nina left and I had my bland dinner. I tried to go to sleep. I had slept enough during the day that I couldn’t relax.
I tried just lying there with m eyes closed and relaxing each part of my body. Ever try to relax in a busy hospital. There is always some noise in the background.
I had lain there for what I thought was half an hour but could have been ten minutes or an hour for all I knew when I heard a noise. Someone was in the room with me.
