We returned to Berkeley to stay with nephew, Alan, and his wife, Rosa. Perfect hosts, they presented us with a guest room that included chocolates placed on our beds.
The next morning, we got a call from them saying their car had broken down on the other side of San Francisco Bay. We got directions and hurried off to help.
We soon found out they were stuck where few
people go, near the entrance to San Quentin Prison.
We plucked them up then explored this sad, strange place. It looks like a run-down hospital with guard towers on San Francisco Bay. The cells on the south side must have a great
view. Just outside the prison’s entrance San Quentin Village, an attractive hamlet for prison employees.
Twenty feet to the left of the main gate is the San Quentin Handicraft Shop. I asked the gate’s guard if I could photograph him and the shop and he said, “No”. He added that everything in the shop had been made by prisoners but it would not open for another two hours. Through the window I could see a variety of wooden trains, cars, and airplanes, models of things one might need to escape from this place.
The guard told me that if I stepped back
100 feet, beyond state property, I could take pictures. I snapped a few...
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