The first time my father ran away from home, he was 6 years old. He’d had enough of “not being allowed to do anything” and was set on seeing the world.
Picture the iconic image of a boy leaving home with a bindle over his shoulder. That was the old man as a child walking down historic Route 66, alongside the road with his father’s favorite hunting dog.
“Your grandpa caught up to me about two miles down the road,” Dad said. “I guess that’s pretty far for somebody that young. I think what really made him mad was that I took the dog with me.”
Dad ran away often over the next several years, getting as far as Lake Tahoe on one trek. Another time, he made it all the way to St. Louis on a motor scooter. As a teen, he stole a car and rolled into Arkansas.
“I broke into some houses there and was staying at a small hotel there in Arkansas,” he said. “I got caught because I was stupid. A police officer noticed me there and started talking to me. It didn’t take him long to figure it out.”
Dad ended up in jail for pulling those burglaries. His father came down to Arkansas to bail him out and bring him home.
“Only time I ever saw my dad cry,” Dad said. “He knew I was heading for a life that he didn’t want me to have.”
Dad embraced recidivism for more than 15 years, spending time in jails all over the country. He did a stretch in Hutchinson. He did time in Lansing. His last stint was a few years at the prison in Tehachapi, California.
As bad as being locked up was, though, he learned plenty. Dad’s IQ was 129, which undoubtedly served him well behind bars. He quickly learned the psychology of surviving in incredibly dangerous places.
“You really have to learn to play the game,” he said. “You have to know who you can trust, where you shouldn’t be and how to manage personalities. To be blunt, many of the people in prison are just animals and where they should be.”
One of the inmates who wasn’t an animal became Dad’s best friend. James Daniel Hollingshead was in prison in Hutchinson in the 1960s for bouncing checks. Much like Andy in “Shawshank Redemption,” Danny, as everybody called him, had an extremely difficult time in prison at first.
Like Andy and Red in that classic movie, Dad liked Danny immediately. He even taught Danny how to stand up for himself. Eventually, the two were “thick as thieves.”
That friendship continued once they both were released. They both lived in San Diego in the early 1970s, often traveling into Mexico to party.
“I remember one time we went down there in my little car,” Dad said. “I had a cool little sports car then. We went to Mexico, had a great time, drank too much. I remember Danny bought this huge painting that cost almost nothing, and that pissed me off. I said, ‘You dumbass! How in the hell are we going to get that home?’
“Imagine us driving up the highway in my little car with that big-ass painting, which was probably 6 foot tall. I’m flying down the highway and he’s clinging to this thing hanging off my car. I kept cussing him until he finally got pissed off and let it go.”
Dad and Danny were close for several more years before they had a falling-out. He only heard from his best friend one more time several months later in a short phone call. My father still thought enough of him to name his second son, Daniel, after his buddy.
Several times in the past 20 years, I’ve tried to find Danny. I’ve done countless searches online. I’ve placed phone calls. I’ve tried to track down their mutual friend Debbie. Perhaps, in the true spirit of a Christmas miracle, somebody will read this blog some day and reconnect the dots.
Note: If you know Danny Hollingshead, please email me at erniewebbiii@hotmail.com.