ROBERT GARDNER -- The Verdict

For a long time, I avoided Carson City.

My travails with that community took place in 1938, when I was a

deputy district attorney. Orange County had a warrant out for a guy who

surfaced in Carson City, and we sent Deputy Sheriff Steve Duhart to bring

him home.

Steve called me from Carson City and said problems had arisen. Would I

come?

I hopped the train, Steve met me in Reno, and on the bus trip back to

Carson City he told me the situation. The governor was willing to give us

our warrant of extradition, and the sheriff was willing to turn the

prisoner over to us.

So what’s the problem, I wondered.

It seemed the prisoner was well-connected. The local judge was his

uncle, one brother-in-law was the district attorney and the other

brother-in-law was the chief of police. They made it clear that as soon

as we got the warrant, the D.A. brother-in-law would have the uncle judge

issue a warrant of habeas corpus -- which the brother-in-law chief of

police would serve on us -- and we would lose our prisoner. Hometown

justice.

What to do? We couldn’t take our prisoner east. That was the wrong

direction. If we went north to Reno, they could call ahead and have us

stopped; the same if we went south to Bridgeport. That left a westward

route, up a long, winding road to Tahoe.

Unfortunately, we woke up in the morning to discover it had snowed 3

inches in Carson City and was snowing in the mountains. Thoughts of the

Donner Party flitted into my mind, but I dismissed them. Skinny as I was,

I wasn’t much of a choice for cannibals.

Steve and I hired a taxi to meet us at the back door of the hotel. We

got our warrant, ran across the street to the jail in the basement of the

courthouse and grabbed our prisoner. Meanwhile, at the same time, the

brothers-in-law were running to the second floor of the courthouse, where

the uncle was waiting to give them their writ.

We dashed down the main street, dragging our prisoner by a lead chain,

ran through the lobby of the hotel and piled into the cab just as the

D.A. and police chief appeared at the front door, waving the writ.

The taxi driver was terrified. Those were the days of notorious 1930s

criminal John Dillinger, and he was sure he was mixed up in a kidnapping.

To motivate him, Steve, a very tough-looking guy, did his best impression

of Jimmy Cagney, and we took off in a splatter of snow and slush toward

Reno.

After a couple miles, we pulled off the road and hid behind a building

just as a police car screamed by in hot pursuit.

I got out and slogged back to Carson City. I must have looked pretty

silly trudging through the sagebrush and snow in my blue suit, black

dress shoes and gray fedora.

I sneaked down back streets and finally came to a guy tinkering with

his car. I told him I’d pay him $20 if he would take my friends and me to

Tahoe.

He didn’t even look up.

“Snowing,� he said.

“Twenty bucks is 20 bucks,� I replied.

He thought a moment, nodded, and we got into his car and took a

circuitous route back to the taxi. We moved our prisoner into the new

vehicle while Steve, once more in his Cagney mode, told the taxi driver

that if wanted to live, he better not move an inch after we left. We

started up the road to Tahoe, and as we did, the taxi took off for Carson

City. So much for Jimmy Cagney.

Soon a police car was after us, siren wailing. We did our best, but

since we were breaking trail, the police car kept gaining. They were

within a few feet of us, and it looked like we’d lose our prisoner when

we slipped, slid and skidded across the state line and out of their

jurisdiction.

The driver breathed a big sigh of relief. I asked him why, and for the

first time he told us that he was deputy sheriff in Carson City and would

have been in a ton of trouble if they caught him.

Anyway, I had one judge, one district attorney and one chief of police

who were not very happy with me, so I made a wide circle around Carson

City.

End of story, except for one item. The county of Orange still owes me

20 bucks. I put in my expense sheet for the $20 and that tightfisted

county auditor, Les Echols, would only pay the bus fare -- 50 cents from

Carson City to Reno.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge. His

column runs Tuesdays.