www.raleysexposed.com - MY DAD/THE RUSSIAN RIVER 1969

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

This page will be used to highlight the resort town that Charles Nordby was living in shortly before three businessmen at Raley's enticed him to move his family to the Sacramento Valley to implement his profit increasing program into many of their unprofitble stores back in 1973. Charles Nordby grew up in this part of the world. Point Arena, CA is where he and his sister Helen were raised as children and went to school.

There's many unique experiences he and his family had while living along the Russian River during some of the craziest times closing out the decade of the 1960s.

I want to start this page off with the article The Sacamento Union newspaper published in October of 1973. Five months before this article was written, he was still living along the Russian River and not too far from the town of Guerneville.


	Above is a GOOGLE map that identifies where the Rio Nido Lodge is located, which is positioned along the Russian River in Northern California. This is where Charles Nordby, his wife Marilou, and the youngest of their nine children lived after they left Fremont, CA in 1969...after I graduated from high school. Charles Nordby lived at this resort for a number of years, and then moved to another house in the Guerneville area...which is located a couple of miles west of the Rio Nido Lodge, along the Russian River. Nordby was hired by Raley's as a consultant in the summer of 1973. Raley's, shortly after witnessing the great results from his profit increasing program, provided Nordby a room at the Marina Inn so he wouldn't have to commute daily to Sacramento. Then in the summer of 1974, Raley's enticed him to relocate his family to the Sacramento area and work full-time for Tom Raley's supermarket chain. Click on the "map camera controls" to drag pegman onto the map to open the street view...where the red target area is. Also featured above on this map is the location "Point Arena." This is where Charles Nordby was raised along with his sister Helen. A beautiful small town along Highway 1.

	The Rio Nido Lodge 1: Restaurant was located at the back. 2: There was a billiards size pool table inside this lodge...located in a room to the side of the entrance. 3: There were also a couple of pinball machines inside Hotel/lodge in which one of them my mother became addicted to. LOL Charles Nordby was hired in 1969, at the beginning of the summer, to manage the small grocery store that was located at the entrance to Rio Nido. He was later asked to manage the entire Rio Nido Lodge that included swimming pool; pool table game room; ice cream parlor; cabin rentals; etc. Another photo of the Hotel Lodge. Grocery store is no longer here. Below is a picture found on the internet that provides a better visual of what amenities were available at the time in 1964. In the picture above, you can see the arrow pointing to the "Stage". This might also be "THE BARN". Rock bands would perform here. I didn't live here at the time "The Barn" was featuring the rock bands. The music venue had ended shortly after Charles Nordby was working at this resort. From what I heard people were not paying to enter The Barn and just listening to the music outside, so the music groups stopped playing there as this was just a losing money situation for the resort. Pictue of the Rio Nido Post Office. courtesy of the internet. Use the maps on this page to see the entire area.
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Click on the "map camera controls" to drag pegman onto the map to open the street view...where the red target area is.

Above is a GOOGLE map that identifies where 16756 Guernewood Rd, Guerneville, CA is located. This is where Charles Nordby, his wife Marilou, and the youngest of their nine children lived before Raley's enticed him to move to Sacramento to work for Raley's as a consultant in 1973. He was no longer managing the Rio Nido Resort and he was looking to position himself back into the grocery business as a consultant to assist grocery stores with low gross margins.

I had stayed with my parents in this home for a short period of time. While living there, I assisted my dad in typing his book titled "The Rich Are Stealing." I did the typing up in an attic that was there in this house. The kind of a typewriter I used was a manual...Royal brand I believe. It could have been an Underwood...too long ago to remember which one it was..

I had to make sure that I was totally perfect in my typing-and if I wasn't, my dad would bring me the page I made a typing error and ask me to correct the error.

It's interesting too that the first job I had in the grocery business was being employed at an Albertsons store located in Boise, Idaho...and while working at this store, the first person I caught stealing was the grandson of one of Alberstons's biggest stockholders who was probably very wealthy...THE RICH ARE STEALING.

AND THEN YOU SEE THE DISHONEST PEOPLE AT RALEY'S WHOM NORDBY MADE RICH---ALL YOU CAN SAY IS THAT THE RICH, THEY ARE STEALING.

Actually, I occasionally worked in the small grocery store at the resort my dad was managing as he needed help from a number of other employees to ring up groceries during the day.

I was living at the Rio Nido Resort in the summer of 1969. I arrived there after July 4th, as I was sent to be with my parents-courtesy of the Contra Costa County Juvenile Dept. as my friend. Dennis Bruner and I (we were under the age of 18) were picked up at a park in Concord for breaking curfew laws...as I remember. Bruner was well known by the police in Concord.

My dad was managing this resort and he had provided me a job(s) while I lived there. Occasionally, I worked inside the small grocery store but mostly I took care of the public pool during the early part of the day...which required me to do the typical stuff: remove the leaves (debris) floating in the pool; provide chlorine to clean the pool; I also made sure the pump was operating properly ...and I was the life-guard. A job that usually began in the morning as this was when the weather would be sunny and warm.

I was also the game-room-operator. This game room consisted of six pool tables (I believe), and a few pinball machines. This job usually began in the late afternoon. Customers would be required to pay a quarter(?), to use the pool tables. At the close of every business day I would level the tables, replace pool stick(s) tips if needed and clean the felt...plus, count and bag up the proceeds.

When I had free time, I played on the pool tables so I could improve my pool playing skills. I started to believe I was becoming a good pool player. My brother Charlie, while he was stationed in Viet Nam, surprised me by sending me two gifts. One was a cue stick and the other gift was a chess set. I loved playing with this cue stick. Both the cue stick and chess set were so beautiful as they were hand carved in Viet Nam-I believe. Unfortunately though, both of them were destroyed in a fire that took place in my oldest sister's garage in the S.F. Bay Area/Contra Costa County, where they were being temporarily stored.

Being the game room operator at this Russian River resort did provide me my first and only "fight" experience I had in my life. And that fight happened inside this building where the sound of many pool balls were constantly banging against each other, and the music playing on the jukebox at the time was most likely the Beatles song "Hey Jude." A perfect song for me to listen to before singing happy birthday to my 18th year that was soon approaching.

Now, please don't misunderstand me as I do realize that since that fight took place, there have been at least 100 other guys (maybe more), who wanted to kick my 'ass'...and wanted to kick my face too. I think it has a lot to do with my smile. They see my smile and immediately both of their hands turn into fists ...it's really a strange phenomena.

Looking back, I am not entirely sure what caused this fight but if my memory serves me right, it had something to do with this guy believing he could use loud profanity inside this game room/arcade...along with believing this crazy notion, which he had heard from some other belligerent people stationed along Sonoma County's River Road, that park management would not call him out for it.

He was totally mistaken which led to this false premise that the kid-looking guy in charge of the Rio Nido game room (aka me), was just a chump and since when does a guy, who is not even 18-years-old at the time and looks like he is 16, control the tongue of a well-respected belligerent park vistor?

One thing led to another and before I knew it four arms were swinging wildly into the air. It must have appeared to everyone in attendence, like two insane music conductors fighting over the control of an orchestra. Unfortunately, this craziness was now taking place for everyone to see. I slipped on the floor and while I was down, he kicked me squarely in the face and today I am very fortunate I didn't lose an eye and a number of teeth during this one-round boxing match that ended abruptly when other park personnel rushed over to put a stop to this madness.

The next day, a visitor staying at the Rio Nido Resort, asked me what had happened to my face with the bruises, swollen lip and puffed-up eyes that were staring at him. I told this person that a professional football "field goal kicker" was in town and wanted to show me and many others at this resort the best way to make contact with the football when kicking a field goal in a hurry. Then this field goal kicker kindly asked me if he could use my face as the football to demonstrate to everyone watching the true talent he possessed in one of his feet.

Now, being a guy who has over the years wanted to appease everyone whenever possible, and because he was so polite to me in his request, I told this kicker that my only concern volunteering my face for this unique event was having him kick out my lower teeth that were situated a short distance south of my nose.

He told me he could appreciate my concern but he also told me he couldn't promise me anything and tried to reassure me that his kicks, lately, had been consistently straight while sending the football perfectly through the upright. So, with his response, I went ahead to do my part to allow this kicking expose' to take place for all to view.

However, as you can clearly see, he shanked the football and pulled it far to the left of the goalposts and he nearly broke my jaw...along with temporarily ruining my vision and this has made it almost impossible for me to enjoy spaghetti and meatballs for the next three months.

If I had just a small amount of wisdom at this time in my life, I would have surely turned down the kicking demonstration he provided to me and the others, who were standing around waiting for a little excitement to place and they ended up witnessing the "kick" heard around the Rio Nido Resort.

I had tried to join the army in late 1969. I was going to enlist with a high school buddy, Dennis Bruner, and join in the Army's " buddy program" that was available at the time. We took all the necessary steps, at Oakland's enlistment/recruiting center to join. Back in 1969, this facility was located near down-town Oakland. The only requirement the two of us had yet to do was take the "oath." And our taking the oath wasn't going to happen until after December, 1969, which would be weeks after we had completed the required enlistment exams in Oakland.

When my dad found out that I was about to join the Army, with my friend Dennis (friends since we were in the 7th grade), he told me at the Rio Nido resort, that my enlistment with Dennis wasn't going to happen. When I contacted Dennis to let him know my Dad's anger towards me joing the army with him, Dennis would show up at the resort to remind me that we were only one step away from entering the Army and not to let my dad interfer with our plan...and my dad would adamantly tell him to leave and that I wasn't going to join the army with him. A little hidden secret about my parents and Dennis: For the many years I had known Dennis, they did not like Dennis and the reasons I won't waste my time trying to explain it on this page.

My dad, knowing he already had two sons stationed in Viet Nam, wasn't going to see a third son possibly sent there. To make a long story short-I ended up telling Dennis that I could no longer join the army with him and I never heard another word from him while he lived. I had let him down.

NOW THE CRAZY STUFF

Rio Nido-picture, courtesy of the internet

Use GOOGLE EARTH to get a street view of this lodge and you can see areas of the resort that is not captured in the picture above.
Game room and grocery store in 1969 are no longer there.

The crazy stuff that took place in Rio Nido happened during the spring and summer of 1970. It involved the names of six people: Jim & Carmen (married) ; Rocky & Melanie (married); Jessie and Matt.

They were hippies and drug dealers from the Los Angeles area and I was probably the first person that they had befriended at Rio NIDO after renting a large cabin in this resort. They met me in the Hotel lobby while I was playing on a pool table located near the office. They received a perk from me and that perk was that they could play pool with one of the son's of the manager of this resort...me.

While I was only 18, they were much older. Jim and Carmen were in their mid-thirties; Rocky and Melanie were in their late-twenties. Jessie was also in his late-thirties. Matt, Melanie's brother, was around twenty (20), and was currently an active member of the military. Now, Jessie, he was a former psychologist, turned hippie, and he would be considered the leader of this group. Mescaline was his expertise in life and he began each day by being a control freak.

They all lived together in a large cabin that they had rented. This particular cabin was located in Rio Nido's "C" section. This Resort had four sections of cabins identified as "A", "B", "C", and "D". My brother Tom and I stayed in a cabin located in the "B" section...as I recall.

Now, as our friendship developed, they also became friends with my older brother Tom. Tom took a liking to them too. Tom was an intellectual and an easy person for someone to have a friendship with. The two of us would be invited to visit them at their cabin and join in with them in smoking dope (aka you know what).

This hippie group, from LA, met me while I was playing pool inside the Rio Nido Lodge. They were friendly people. Jim and Carmen took a liking to me very quickly as they told me I was one of the first people they met after renting their cabin and I was friendly with them. Jim was a mechanic by trade and knew the engine of a car inside and out. As I remember, they had two children (Eric and Erin). Like I mentioned earlier, the cabin they rented was one of the largest in the resort.

Note: During this time period, the population of hippies living along the Russian River grew exponentially. My dad, who previously had a grocery store account along Telegraph Ave during the 60s, in Berkeley CA, was very familiar with hippies and drugs. If you were on drugs, he would know it by your eyes. If I had taken any drugs in Rio Nido, I made sure I was never in his presence because he could sniff it out...no pun intended.

It should also be noted that the Rio Nido hippies had befriended my brother Tom too, as the two of us were sharing a cabin at the resort. Tom was two years older than me and was a lot more intelligent and sophisticated. He would become known in the family as the famed draft-dodger...of my parents. Now, get this too, he had a photo of himself burning his "military draft card" that was featured in the newspaper at the college he attended in Fremont. How many draft dodgers, from that era, can make a claim like that today?

Tom, knowing that he was wanted for failing to register to the selective service dept., never changed his name to evade the law, and the FBI, who had Tom on their list of draft dodgers to find, could never locate him. Even while Tom had established a life and a family in Boise, Idaho, the FBI still couldn't locate him. Finally, after our Government gave amnesty to all of the draft dodgers during the Viet Nam war, they sent a letter to him saying he was no longer being sought. I guess the FBI stumbled onto address stored away somewhere in DC in order to send him a letter. lol.

SO, were these Hippies dangerous?

Jim and Carmen: No, I never experienced anything from them to make me feel they were dangerous. Jim was the uncle to Melanie and he turned out to be good company. Tom and Jim got along very well too. Jim would invite us over to their C cabin to smoke marijuna and on some occasions take Mescaline. I think the biggest trip we had was when they offered us Angel Dust. We only took that one time and the two us knew after experimenting with this stuff, it was dangerous to take. Tom shared with me that he didn't believe he was ever going to come off of this high. I felt the same way. This drug came on very quickly and when it did you also wanted to come off of this drug quickly.

Rocky and Melanie: Rocky was a true down to Earth hippie and tried to give the impression he was oblivious to what was going on around him. He had long black hair with a beard. He was a huge Beatles fan, which most of us were at this time in 1970. He had a very impressive, large collection of Beatles albums and you didn't dare touch any of his beloved albums. Now, do I believe Rocky was dangerous? I believe he was when he was around Jesse. Now, his wife Melanie, seemed to be kind of a scatterbrain and this may have been due to the amount of drugs she was taking with Rocky.

Jesse: He was the leader of this hippie family from Los Angelis and was a big drug dealer on The River. Jesse and Rockie rented a chicken coop that was converted into a living home, near Bodega Bay, and they would organize a trip there for all of us to go to. So, we went there and stayed at this place for an evening. It was bazaar. We all took psilocybin that evening. A favorite drug of Jesse. My brother Tom, the next morning, told me that he thought he had experienced death during this trip and his personality changed quite a bit after that.

Do I believe Jesse was dangerous? I do believe he was. He got angry very easily. Like I had mentioned earlier about Jessie, he was a former psychologist, nearly 40-years-old, who quit his profession in order to be a hippie and drug dealer. He had semi long hair, blondish and curly...and the females loved him. Plus, he had a huge appetite for sex and it appeared he had an unhealthy preference for young girls that may have been considered sexual molestation. Unless you knew the ages of these young girls, it would be hard to tell...but when you look at the Jeffery Epstein story of today, this Jesse guy had some major problems. I would occasionally see him at the Rio Nido Pee Wee golf course. There were pool tables available for people to play on that was inside of this building...soft drinks and hot dogs were all sold inside this building. I would see him there, and he wasn't aware that I was staring at him from a distance as he was looking at these young girls. He would soon leave that building and that is all I knew about him.

This group of people would get into to these home thereapy sessions-I guess that is what you would call them...and it had Jesse's former profession written all over it. He would keep pushing Matt (Melanie's brother), to be more talkative inside this group therapy meeting and I remember telling Jesse "Why don't you leave Matt alone, he is here on a leave from the military, so why do put so much pressure on him?" Wow, Jesse got up and he screamed at me at the top of his lungs "Frank, get out of here, " as he pointed to the door. I was totally startled by his outburst. I got up off the ground to leave, but suddenly froze and then I boldly told him that I was not leaving, and sat back down. Everyone in that room was really surprised by what I said to Jesse...and even me. He cooled off and shortly thereafter this therapy session ended---really, really weird. Jim mentioned to me a few days later that I was really brave to talk to Jesse that way.

One day I went to visit them inside their cabin, and all of them were sitting in chairs naked. Being only 18, I felt really uncomfortable being around them. Carmen, who was sitting next to her naked husband Jim, boldly asked me "Will you take off all of your clothes?" I told her I couldn't do that and then I left this building. Probably the last time I knew what being modest was...LOL.

During this time period along the Russian River, public nudity was common...

Eventually these people moved out of the C section cabin and moved into another location not too far away from this place. My friendship with them ended pretty much when one of my brothers warned me about Rocky and Jesse, claiming these two guys were dangerous...I really believed this to be true.

I ran into Jim a couple of years later and we talked for awhile. He told me about these women who used to live with them. I remember seeing these women but I didn't know their names and I was never introduced to them. They were kind of mysterious people living at the C section cabin. Jim told me that these women (three of them) were followers of Charles Manson and they had left the Manson family and were now a target of these crazy people...and they were being hidden in this C section cabin. I don't know if this is true...but why would Jim lie to me? But knowing who Jesse was, this story really rang true.

One of Charles Manson's victims were killed in the Guerneville area...Was there any connection? I do not know. There were a lot of weird people living on the Russian River during this time period...most likely there still are...lol

From that time onward, I never felt safe being outside after the sun went down in one of the most beautiful places in Northern CA.

I am not sure if this is the precise location of the Palm Reading business...it's no longer here.

While I lived in the Rio Nido Resort, I would occasionally walk to the town of Guerneville. It's about a two-mile walk. Halfway there was a PALM-READING business situated off the side of a road that is called River Rd. A woman is basically working out of her home and doing her palm-reading service from the comforts of her living room.

So, one day I was walking past her business and she was outside enjoying the sunshine. She spotted me, a young, physically fit guy, and she moseyed on over to her fence to asked me if I would be willing to mow her yard and in return she would provide me a free palm-reading service afterwards.

I told her sure, I will mow your yard. She pointed to the garage and said the push-lawn mower was stored inside over in a corner. Now, the grass was high and it was easy for me to see that this lawn hadn't been mowed in some time. So, I had to put some physical effort into that morning in order to get her lawn mowed...with a push-lawn mower. Knowing I was young, I could get this yard work taken care of, and be of some help to her...as that was my goal.

Now, I really wasn't expecting to actually have my palms read by this woman as I thought I didn't mind helping her out. However, she was adament about reading my palms. Corralling me into her living room, she had me sit in a palm-reading chair at this table where she did her palm reading, etc.

She focused on my palm and the important lines related to my life. I don't remember everything she told me about my future,when thinking about that 1969 experience. In fact, I am not even sure what she told me. I just thought she probably told me the same events would take place in my life like she told everyone else as she peered into their future.

Maybe this palm-reader was everything she claimed to be and the lines she saw on my palm revealed an incredible amount of crazy stuff that would take place in my future but wouldn't reveal it to me because she would have had to start off by saying this to me "you simply can't make this stuff up." And who in their right mind would believe this crazy stuff?

Now, think of this: If she would have said "Young man, by looking at the really important lines on your palm, someday you will be living a mile away from an active volcano that spits lava at you every few months-" she knew she would have lost all credibility with me in her line of work......on that day...LOL

Here is interesting story that connects to this Rio Nido/Guerneville story above:

My wife and I moved to a community located on The Big Island called Volcano. There is a neighbor located a couple of homes over from us. I was being helpful to her sometimes when she went on vacation. I would mow her yard as a way to be neighborly and make her know that her home was secure while she was away.

One day, she invited my wife and I over to her place for a visit. While there she shared with us her interest over the years in things like tarrot card reading, etc. I just thought it was interesting of my story of the palm reader who wanted to provide me with a reading if I mowed her yard, nearly 60 years ago, and this more recent story of me assisting a woman with her lawn mowing before I even learned of her interest in reading tarrot cards.

I have only met two women in my life who had an interest in reading people lives, whether through reading cards or reading palms and mowing a lawn was a connection to both women...just an interesting tidbit.

U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt said in 1901 "Speak softly and carry a big stick."

In pool I say "Shoot softly and carry a straight stick."

In 1969, I thought I was a good pool player. After the summer ended and the resort was closed until the next summer, I played a lot of pool on the table that was located inside the Lodge. After more than 55 years, I still remember the guy who rented a cabin at the Resort and then befriended me one afternoon while I was shooting pool by myself inside the Lodge. Age wise, I think he was close to being 30-years-old at the time. I never asked him about his age.

He asked me if he could shoot pool with me. I told him sure and he introduced himself to me as being a new tenant at the Rio Nido resort...in which he rented a cabin from my dad. Sadly, I do not remember his name, but what I do remember is that he was an extremely quiet guy and very friendly. Also, he knew that I was the son of the manager of this resort and I had the power to let him play pool free at the Lodge...in fact, I let everyone play free and so I had a lot of friends. LOL...but, my dad didn't mind as long as the people playing with me were renting a cabin.

In the first game we played, I saw how well he could shoot pool. Every shot he took convinced me he was somebody I could learn from...to become a much better pool player. After the first game we played, in which he beat me, he shared with me a little knowledge about his past. He told me he had spent time in the San Quentin prison for selling drugs. Being only 18-years-old at the time, I had never met anyone who had spent time in prison.

Now, we all know that in 1969 there wasn't any Internet plugged into our ears, so I couldn't Google AI this important question: How does a person react when somebody tells you they have been in prison for a number of years? I mean, I wasn't sure if there was an official way for me to react to this information. Was I supposed to stoop down and hide behind the table until he could convince he was no longer dangerous? I am not sure I had any reaction as I had considered there were plenty of other ex-cons living in this area. LOL I then I told myself, who cares? Case close.

He came right out and told me I was decent pool player, and if I gave him the time, he could make me a much better and complete player. I didn't object to that idea, so I told him let's play...and I racked up the balls to play our first tuition/free/educational pool game @ URNP. University of Rio Nido Pool.

The important tip like "chalking your cue stick" before each shot I had already learned in my freshman year of shooting pool, long before he came into my life. But the first thing he shared with me about playing pool was the most important thing he shared with me about playing pool: There is no reason to shoot the cue ball hard and that 95% of the shots you take in any game should be shot softly.

You need to control where your cue ball is going and where it will end up after you shoot your current shot so you are basically planning your next shot ahead of time...but realistically you are planning an entire rotation of shots-one after the other until you finish the game. I watched him apply this same strategy to his own shooting. He shot so softly and his aim was precisely on target and so when the cue ball came to a stop he was ready for the next shot he currently had planned out. He could run the table time and time again. The goal in any game is to never leave your opponent a shot if you are unable to run the table and you just happen to miss a shot.

But this was just the beginning of what I learned from him. He wanted me to be able to use "english" in a much more accurate way that would provide me an additional skill to achieve that much sought after complete game of playing pool.

The shot being illustrated below, which required a good dose of english being applied to the cue ball, and then hits hard towards the front left pocket at practically the exact entrance to the right of that pocket...then it veers off to the left, and then the english still has the force behind it, recocheys to the right, and then impressively scoots along the back of the pool table and hits the ball on the right and that ball goes into the pocket...it's a beautiful shot and everything has to be perfect with the amount of english being placed on the cue ball along with the cue ball hitting that exact entrance to corner of that left pocket...for it to be successful. If the shot is inaccurate the cue ball will just end up in that pocket to the left and you end up looking like a fool.

Note: It's been many years since I played a game of pool in which I used cue-ball-english and so I would need to be playing again in order for me to establish exactly how this english is applied to the left-front- corner-pocket.

I actually made this shot in a game I was playing in-but I was lucky and anyone else making this shot will be lucky too. A humble and quiet guy, who spent time in prison for selling drugs, taught me this shot. If that yellow (1) ball in the upper right corner is the ball you are required to make (or required to make contact with per the rules), then this is one way to send the cue ball, that is all buttered up with the proper english, in a direction that can get it there.

Now, to do this shot above, you have to shoot the cue ball hard but not that hard), in order get the desired result. And the occasion for needing to perform this shot will come very seldom. Also, players who rely on banking their shots are violating the "sure-shot rule."

My favorite shot was any shot being shot into a side pocket-which there are only two. The accuracy needed for this particular shot is astounding
as the opening for making it lessens because of the angle to the opening lessens...and when making a side pocket shot,
it's impressive to anyone watching it. A shot that needs to be shot "SOFTLY," and with a good eye.

In addition to the shot seen above, he showed me other techniques too, like using Massè with the cue ball. I actually learned to do this shot also. It's not as impressive as the shot seen above. The Massè shot requires cue ball english placed at the top, coming somewhat in a down motion to get the spin needed to curve the cull ball around the ball in front of it...to hit that ball you are aiming for in which you need to make actual contact as per rules.

It's a cute shot but it is not a for-sure shot and I never wanted to use this technique unless absolutely needed to. Your goal is to position your future shots to where needing to use Massè isn't necessary. In fact, this particular shot, if not properly done, will easily place a rip in the table felt.

When I mentioned how hitting the cue ball softly is really important to attain accuracy and the placement of the cue ball afterwards, the "BREAK" shot, at the start of the game, is how I learned (not from this guy at the resort), that this is one of the most important shots in regards to being able to the run the table.

When I "broke" the pyramid at the beginning of the game, I would hit the cue ball with such velocity, that on many occasions, when the cue ball made contact with the pyramid of the racked balls, the cue ball would jump off the table to where it could be dangerous for somebody to be standing nearby. LOL.

The balls inside of the pyramid were scattered to such a degree after the break, that each remaining ball became easy pickens to shoot one after the other and then make running the table so possible. In fact, it wasn't uncommon to see that a hard break like this would pocket two or three balls from the get-go. Sometimes four.

Hard to believe that nearly 50 years ago, back during the late 70s, I would dress up in a brown corduroy suit, drive from Sacramento to S.F. to shoot pool at a billiards joint located in the area of Van Ness Blvd.

I did play a young guy for money at the S.F. billiards place. I walked into this place and stood around just looking at the people playing pool to determine who were really good players and who weren't. It's easy to tell. I got myself a table to play on by myself and then within minutes this young guy came up to me and wanted to play a game for money. I had seen this young guy playing on a table earlier when I was observing all of the players in the pool hall, before I signed up for my own table.

I asked him how much money did he want to play for and he said twenty dollars...I said "ok." He lost the game and when he wanted to hand me the money he owed me, I told him "I don't want your money, I knew I could beat you before we even started playing." Just like the pool shark, at the Rio Nido Lodge who taught me, he knew he could beat me before we even played a game. I left that billiards joint and never returned to S.F. to play again.

I entered only one 9-ball tournament in my life...and I won...but this tournament took place in a Sacramento billiards joint. And actually I was lucky to win that game.

1) Play on a level table-if the table is not level then there is no accuracy with your shooting as the cue ball will sway. Before you play any game, take the cue ball and roll the cue ball from one end to the other end to see if the cue ball has a straight movement.

2) Play with a straight cue stick-if your cue stick isn't straight then there is no accuracy in your shooting. Also, cue sticks are weighed in the ounces. Me, I preferred light weight cue sticks in the 17oz range and long enough for my liking when reaching to make shots...it's all a personal preference.

3) Never, ever, break with the cue stick that you plan to use to play your game-which should be your favorite cue stick. The cue stick can crack during your break shot because of how hard you hit that cue ball at the break...so use a cue stick that you use only at the break and find one that is made for that purpose.

4) Play with a cue stick that has chalk on its tip before every shot as a tip with no chalk will cause the cue stick to slip-that's no fun and you look like a fool.

4A) Be sure not to let the cue stick move around between your fingers...have the cue stick firmly positioned in a curled up finger that doesn't allow the stick to move around.

5) Shoot the cue ball softly as the result from this will impress you immediately and improve your game.

6) Take only "for-sure" shots as trying to bank a shot is not a sure-shot. Banking a shot should only be done when it is absolutely necessary.

7) If you are the one breaking the pyramid of balls at the beginning of the game, break the balls up so hard so that you can make it easier to run the table after the balls are scattered everywhere-the odds of a ball being pocketed at the beginning of a game during a hard break increases exponentially.

8) Learn to shoot the cue ball with english applied...as english provides much more movement for the cue ball and this fact will assist you in achieving your objectives in unique ways. Right-left and lower ball english...applying lower ball english on the cue ball will allow the spin to reverse that will impressively bring back the cue ball with the purpose to set up shots that are behind your current shot.

10) Smile and be friendly with everyone. And if somebody today tells you they have spent time in prison...tell them "I know, I have already Googled your name, along with the eight aliases you use, seen what bunk-bed you slept in for 10 years and I know the name of the Warden who pardoned you. Now, It's your shot."

Also, don't drink alcohol while playing pool and if you like eating cotton candy, don't eat it while you're playing pool.

all of the above is just a rambling.

Above features The Jefferson Airplane on YouTube performing their hit song White Rabbit on the American Bandstand in 1967...you can hear their song being played at around the 11 minute mark. Now, back in 1969, The Barn, located inside the Rio Nido Resort, was used to host many of the music bands during that era. In fact, after the July 4th, 1969 riot that took place at this resort, The Barn closed its doors soon afterwards. I didn't arrive at the Rio Nido resort until after July 4th, so I never experienced anything that took place at The Barn.

One of the reasons I heard The Barn closed its doors is because the building, where the music was being played inside, was somewhat small and thus the music could be heard by anybody standing outside of the building and therefore the incentive for someone to purchase a ticket wasn't really there.

The owners of The Rio Nido Resort were paying money to these music groups to perform and eventually the resort was losing money because not enough people were paying to go inside and hear the music and the math just didn't add up to keep this music venue opened.

I would imagine that the decision to close down The Barn was probably because of Charles Nordby. He was really liked by the owners of the resort who relied on his business expertise to assist them in having a properly operated resort and in business to make a profit. Two of the owner/investors were Jim Friday-I believe Jim was his first name, and Bill Clark. There was another owner/ investor, but I am not sure what that person's name was as he left shortly after The Barn was closed down.

Now, the reason I have featured the Jefferson Airplane rock group in this section is because I had heard from other workers at the Rio Nido Resort that the *Jefferson Airplane was one of the music groups who had recently performed there and very few people paid to go inside and listen to them as people just listened to their music outside.

I didn't know much about the Jefferson Airplane or any music group at that time. So, fast forward to the year 1972 and I want to share an experience I had while hitchhiking through the city of San Francisco as I was trying to get back to Santa Rosa, which is located many miles north of San Francisco.

I was hitchhiking on Van Ness Blvd., which is a very busy street in San Francisco, and I had been standing on this street for awhile. Finally, a sports car pulled over and the guy inside this car verbally offered me a ride. I said sure, thanks a lot. As I get inside the car I tell this driver that I am going to Santa Rosa and I would appreciate any ride he could offer me while on my journey.

The first thing he wants me to know, after I settled into the passenger seat inside his car, is that he had seen me on the street hitchhiking and tried to stop and pick me up, but couldn't, because the traffic on Van Ness Blvd. was too busy (at this time of the day), and therefore he had to manuever around a city block to come back again and pick me up.

Now, in 1972, I don't believe the word "wow" was being used to express surprise or amazement like it is being used today. When I heard this motorist tell me he had gone around an entire San Francisco city block in order to pick me up, WOW, is the only english word I can use today to recapture my experience of this story that took place on Van Ness Blvd. WOW

I had done a lot of hitchhiking in my life before getting this ride from this guy on Van Ness Blvd., and never, repeat, never, did any motorist ever, repeat, ever, drive around a city block to pick me up. In fact, when he told me this, I became very suspicious of this person and I also became somewhat concerned.

This guy tells me he is going to Mill Valley and I could ride with him inside of his sports car to this city ..and I thanked him for the ride. He asked me if I had any marijuana to smoke and I told him that I don't carry dope while hitchhiking. Having long hair at this time, he must have thought I would have something to smoke.

Then the driver directed me to open his glove compartment where he stated I could find a joint inside, which I did, and the two of us were soon smoking a joint on our way to Mill Valley. I will have to admit he had some very good dope to smoke...as I remember. Knowing that past studies, pertaining to the effects of marijuana on the human brain, have come out to clearly show how it can alter a person's perception.

This perception-altering-drug, that is now affecting me, is probably the main reason why it took me longer to realize that the crazy enormous looking structure I see ahead of us in the distance was in fact the Golden Gate Bridge that my driver would soon be required to drive across and I should fear not.

WOW...again.

So, there I am riding in this car with a guy who went around an entire city block in order to pick me up hitchhiking, to where we are now smoking his dope together and getting high...an event I would have never expected to happen five minutes earlier while standing on a busy street in San Francisco.

Yes, it is now time to pop the big question that most hitchhikers, with class, will ask the motorist: WHAT DO YOU DO? A question that is common to ask when meeting someone for the first time while being picked up hitchhiking. I mean, you have to talk about something while trying to be respectful to the driver who just picked you up. Especially this driver, who seemed to have gone the extra mile in order to give me a much needed ride when it was possible that I could be stuck hitchhiking on this particular San Francisco street for a long time.

This guy, after I asked him what he did, quickly sticks out his hand to shake mine. Now, with a big smile on his face, he tells me he is Jack Casady of the Jefferson Airplane. The way he did this made me believe he must have practice this "hand shaking" routine over and over again at home to get this done right and perfect as he is clearly excited about wanting me to know who he is.

Now, Jack could have made this a much more memorable experience for me after we started smoking his dope by him singing the words, "One drag makes you larger and one drag makes you small. The drags that mother gives you...don't do anything at all"? I know, really silly.

He made me feel so comfortable while inside his car, I wanted to remove my shoes and just let my feet hang outside of the passenger's window as we drove to Mill Valley. I am sure if I had requested this catering to my feet, he probably would signed off to the idea.

Like I had mentioned earlier, I wasn't familiar with his name and I didn't know much about this music group at the time and so I just stated "Nice to meet you." Then I waited about 30 seconds and added the question "didn't you play at the Rio Nido Resort back in 1969?"

He didn't respond back to me. Maybe because he was too high from the joint we were smoking...I don't know. However, I don't believe this was the music venue from his past he was hoping for me to question him on.

From that point on, I don't remember another thing we talked about as he drove his car over the Golden Gate Bridge until we arrived in Mill Valley-which isn't that many miles down the road on Highway 101...more proof the dope we smoked was good stuff.

However, this is where my final memory of this experience concludes: As he leaves Highway 101 in Mill Valley he drives me to a highway entrance, leading back to highway 101 that will assist me in finding another motorist to give me another ride to get me to my destination. I don't even remember thanking him for the ride he offered me as he was driving away.

So, there I was standing at the entrance to a highway and I am still stoned...which is really weird. And as I am waiting on this road for another ride, I started to grasp everything that took place with this guy who gave me a ride from San Francisco to Mill Valley.

I found myself laughing really hard while I was standing there on this road, as I realized that this guy, who identified himself as a member of the Jefferson Airplane rock group, had seen a young guy with long hair, hitchhiking on a busy S.F. street and knew he would be able to impress this hippie with the fact that he is a rock star.

However, he quickly realizes that this young guy with long hair wasn't impressed after learning he was Jack Casady. I wasn't trying to be rude to him-as I just didn't know who he was. I mentioned to him what I knew about him and that was the Rio Nido gig he got involved in at The Barn. He had to equate that 1969 music event, in which he appeared at "The Barn" as a real disappointment at that time period.

I then realized he never even asked me who I was, what I did...or anything else. Maybe that was another effect of smoking dope as "one drag will make you small." Then, I started laughing even harder while standing 10 minutes on this entrance that gets me back onto Highway 101...however, this entrance leads me back to the city of San Francisco and not onto Highway 101 that will take me to Santa Rosa.

Yes, I was still stoned and the drivers passing me by knew I was too-Jack Casady still had to be stoned. The best news about this experience is that I didn't ask Casady what instrument he played for the group...that really would have been the ultimate unintentional fact that I didn't know.

I am probably one of the few people who grew up during the 60s who never attended a rock concert while he lived...hard to believe.

*I googled the Jefferson Airplane and questioned if they actually played at The Barn in Rio Nido back in 1969. I was only relying on what somebody told me. What I learned is that Jack Casady and another band member Jorma Kaukomen, identified themselves as Hot Tuna and did perform at The Barn, in Rio Nido at the end of June, 1969...there is little information about this gig.

Hot Tuna is an American blues rock band formed in 1969 by former Jefferson Airplane members Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady. Although it has always been a fluid aggregation, with musicians coming and going over the years, the band's center has always been Kaukonen and Casady's ongoing collaboration.

Now, this "so let me get this straight" heading has nothing to do with straight cue sticks, pool tables or paroled felons. This is about the confusion my parents created for me nearly 60-years-ago...and this is something that I haven't spent much time trying to analyze.

Now, with that being said, why shouldn't I spend the time...now... to analyze and investigate this because I need to face this reality too: From this moment going forward, and based on my family's heart/health history, I could drop dead at any time now from a much anticipated heart attack. In fact, I am currently living on borrowed time & who cares about this nonsense anyways as this and everything else about life is really so absurd and as the good book says "all is vanity."

In May of 1969, the high school I was about to graduate from in Fremont CA, offered me a scholarship to attend a business college in the S.F. Bay Area. My mom pooh-poohed the idea and my dad backed her up in this lackadaisical attitude to this special honor that was about to be bestowed onto me...in which, according to my historical records, I didn't receive. My dad even added his opinion that business colleges aren't very good and attending college was going to be...probably... a waste of my time.

They spent no time chewing on the most important fact that I was to be their first and only child to be offered a scholarship for anything while attending school. I mean, I really applied myself in the number of business courses I took at that high school called Irvington High, which was located in Fremont, CA. It would probably amaze anyone today to see the kinds of "business machines" that were being used during that era and how quickly these machines became obsolete a decade or more later.

After I graduated from H.S. in June of 1969, my mom and dad moved to Rio Nido, CA. Kind of a quaint resort town nestled among the redwood trees along the Russian River. This move was to invite a more relaxed atmosphere into my dad's life...and I have to honestly report today that I don't believe the term "relaxed atmosphere" was anywhere near the Russian River and hadn't been spotted in that area in the previous few decades.

If fact, my dad was more likely to have spotted BIGFOOT casually taking big strides within the nearby isolated canyon roads, than he was to come across a deep breath of fresh air while experiencing a sigh of relief that he was no longer concerned about the stealing taking place at one of the grocery store accounts he had on Telegraph Ave in Berkeley, CA.

Rio Nido was a popular Sonoma County tourist town in close proximity to other neat places to visit along River Road on Highway 16. Within a short amount of time you could be enjoying a nice lunch at Jenner (aka Jenner-by-the-sea), visiting Bodega Bay where Hitchcock's thriller "The Birds" was filmed... or even further up north, along the coast, to visit C Nordby's former stomping grounds located in the unique town of Point Arena.

Now, getting back to my life in 1969 after high school, I went to visit my best friend Dennis Bruner who lived in Concord, CA...as I really didn't want my parent's life along the Russian River...as I had just discovered before graduating from HS, that they really didn't want my life and the direction I wanted to take it.

So, there I was, living my life after HS with an old buddy from my past and we started doing everything we used to do when we hung out together. That is-get in trouble. And Dennis was a buddy of mine whom my parents did not like...as they thought Dennis was a bad influence on me-which was possible.

When my parents moved from Concord to Fremont in 1967, and I was no longer on Bruner's short list of friends, I started to take my education seriously as I couldn't believe how easy taking exams would be when I actually studied for the test. STUDY + EXAMS = GOOD GRADES...it was like magic.

Things for my best friend Dennis were different in the summer of 1969. Dennis seemed to have matured a lot since the last time I saw him a couple of years earlier. And he appeared to me to have his '�HIT' together after I met up with him...after he graduated from Ygnacio Valley High School in Concord. From that time on we did a lot of hitchhiking together.

We polished up our hitchhiking thumbs and soon we ended up in Santa Cruz, CA. While there, we found ourselves moving casually along the Boardwalk, where we would panhandle money for our beer (beer if there was somebody willing to buy us some). Then we would catch crabs (crabs he caught by using empty dairy-products-baskets...and not the kind of crabs you can catch from being promiscuous), for our evening dinner to steam on the beach.

Dennis could catch anything. He could make a fishing pole with just a string and a stick, and then catch a fish with just a sniveling, swirling worm hanging from a homemade hook. It was like the fish would spot his crazy fishing-gear-set-up and then go out of its way to appease him by hopping right on for the short ride with a hook in its mouth...while knowing full well they were headed in the direction of the frying pan. This guy was a modern day Davy Crockett and it appeared to me the females just loved him.

Looking back at that time, Santa Cruz in its own way, was just another version of the Rio Nido Resort. Dennis had a history with Santa Cruz as his family spent summer vacations there where he learned to surf, get tanned, show off his muscles and his sculpted physique. Plus, Santa Cruz had memories of ocean waves, the Boardwalk, beach blonde looking girls along with an endless supply of crabs to catch to be easily steamed on the beach. Repeat: Not the kind of crabs you catch by being promiscuous.

When I think of Rid Nido, the memory, that doesn't seem to go away for me, is not the pretty girls in bikinis with wild flowers attached to their hair, but it is a memory featuring that rude guy who wasted no time in planting one of his feet into the center of my young virgin face while inside that game room. I would have never thought that a "size 11" shoe, that just happened to be conveniently clinging to a guy's right foot, and on a brief mission to make contact with the sensitive nerves in my upper jaw...incredibly, would be a memory that followed me for the rest of my life.

That craziness may have topped all of my other memories while being in the midst of Northern California's magnificent and beautiful redwood trees seen towering high into the sky...as there was plenty of crazy crap happening on River Road along the Russian River.

During the time I was hitchhiking across this country, I would be picked up by a motorist, in some midwest town, and when the motorist asked me where I was from, I would immediately go into my spiel that I would have won that fight at that Rio Nido game room, had I not slipped on the floor on that day.

Eventually I was smart enough to understand why the motorist became totally quiet until he dropped me off at the next exit. And being a former/potential recipient of a high school scholarship, in 1969, this qualified me to be savvy enough to realize that if I wanted longer rides from motorists, I needed to stop mentioning that foot-in-the-face experience while I was hitchhiking. LOL

Now, getting back to the Rio Nido Resort and to my friendship with Bruner, there is the memory of my dad telling Dennis that I would not--repeat--I would not be joining the army with him in December of 1969. At that same time, my dad was kind of stowing me away from Dennis, without him knowing, inside of his family (manager size cabin) in Rio Nido. So, that when Dennis showed up at the resort, he wouldn't know that I was inside my dad's house and Dennis wouldn't have the ability to persuade me to leave the resort with him.

I know crazy stories are hard to believe...but the crazy experience that follows next is even harder to believe as it involves "late 1960s" lesbianism; bedroom tiedowns; a woman running naked through the resort...and an 18-year-old guy trying to get a good night's sleep while his dad is successfully hiding him from a potential 3-year-stint in the army where all roads seem to lead to Viet Nam-a place where he already had two sons located and he was determined not to have another son stationed there.

Let me explain how my dad only wanted me to stay in his cabin/house and my only job at this time was to just sleep and make sure I didn't pop my head up as to give away my location to Bruner if and when he came to the resort looking for me.

Yeah, so there I was in a deep sleep, being hiden inside the living room of my parents place...because my dad wants to make sure that I don't leave the resort with Bruner who keeps on coming back to the resort to convince me to join the army with him and remind me that our trip to the State of Washington to take the oath of our enlistment/service is scheduled to take place soon as we were in the Army's "buddy plan."

So, while I was in a dead sleep, my dad is awakened to a loud banging taking place on the front door. He must have thought it was my buddy Dennis and probably envisioned he would soon be in a wrestling match with Dennis, in his front living room, with his son Frank sound asleep on a couch. However, it wasn't Dennis, and it turned out to be a completely naked woman screaming for help. As with any man, who is planning on saving a supermarket chain from going bankrupt in a few years, he politely provided this naked woman with a much needed blanket to cover herself up.

I am probably less than 10ft away from this craziness and I am still asleep and unbelievably I just don't wake up. Please understand, but at this time in my life I am a very deep sleeper and it always required a lot of noise in order for me to wake up...or, it required at least one nearby naked women, while she is panically screaming, in order for me to get my eyes to open to register a small amount of consciousness.

Crazy noise + a lot more crazy noise inside my parents living room, finally entered into the master bedroom of my brain...so that the small-neon-light-button for reality, which was positioned a short distance off to the right, aka the cerebrum, which is connected to at least one hundred billion neurons, was automatically pressed...and then get this-a creepy show with unfamiliar and uncredited actresses just appeared in front of my eyes in this X-rated movie.

Here is a synopsis of this x-rated movie:

This naked woman was living with another woman and together were renting a cabin from my dad/resort.

These two women apparently were lovers.

Then, for a couple of days one woman tied up the other woman while she was naked and was doing these creepy things to her and saying she was going to kill her-(Maybe the female version of some sensational murder story like Jeffrey Dahmer).

Finally, after two days of being tied up, this woman was able to escape and then ran as quickly as she could to the manager's cabin of this resort...aka my dad's cabin...where he cleverly had me hidden inside to keep me from my buddy Dennis.

Manager of Rio Nido then calls the police and police come to the resort to file a report and make an arrest of one of the women.

The victim, who is still covered with a blanket, is standing close to the police car where the accused is sitting in the back seat. The accused woman, while comfortably sitting in the police car, lip syncs this worded message to the victim "I am going to kill you when I come back."

Now, to be fair, those threatening words from this woman sitting in the police car could have easily been her innocently repeating lyrics, that she may have heard earlier in the day from a recent song being played during the late 60s by the rock group "The Doors," and being played non-stop over the radio. However, after seeing the angry look on that woman's face, believe me when I say "I seriously doubt it."

Police then drive off with the accused sitting in the back seat and head on over to Santa Rosa. I don't believe the arrested woman ever came back to the Rio Nido Resort to keep her death threat against her estranged lover as she probably discovered and learned much scarier bedroom routines to have with other females while being in a much quieter and peaceful setting along with being educated by more experienced jail inmates...a lot to learn in Kinkyville.

I actually witnessed this crazy stuff taking place along with hearing the quiet death threat the woman in the police car said to the victim.

I always thought that these two women should have traveled to Africa to watch the gorillas, firsthand, while they did their sex romping performances. They could have learn from these primates the importance to add more love, to be less agressive in the bedroom, provide more kissing behind the ears and having absolutely no tie-down-ropes involved...and especially learn not to get the police involved to help avoid waking up the entire nighborhood & Bigfoot.

A couple of days later I saw the victim strolling around the resort and I went over to her and tried to strike up a conversation about her situation with this other woman. She says nothing to me, quietly walked away and that became the END OF THE STORY. Looking at this story today, I see my first wife playing the dominant female role in this lesbian story if this were ever to become a movie.

And maybe this woman running naked to the manager of this resort's residence, was the spark that I needed to actually inspire me to run naked 7 1/2 miles at the San Fransico Bay to Breakers race in the year 2000 with the faces of three people above my naked butt...LOL.

I don't know which one of the two stories is crazier as both were happening at the same time: This naked woman being forced to stay in this cabin by another woman, or me, who was being hidden inside my dad's place so my dad could keep me from my friend Dennis who keeps showing up at the RIO NIDO RESORT asking Mr. Nordby where FRANK is because the two of them are taking the oath soon to become buddies in the U.S. Army? Dennis just couldn't understand my dad when he stated "I have two sons already in Viet Nam and I am not sending another one there."

I was given an opportunity to receive a scholarship to attend a business college after graduating from high school and both my mom and dad pooh-poohed the idea.

I was going to join the military in 1969 with a school buddy and my dad went nuts trying to prevent this.

Eventually, I found myself hitchhiking across America with no direction in my life that paved a path to the City of Minneapolis, without a dime to my name and wondering why I was still alive, along with being mentally crippled for the entire world to see...and always thinking how that pool-room fight at the RIO NIDO RESORT could have ended differently had I not slipped on the floor.

And I totally believe it was unfair for my mom to tell me not too long before she died "Frank, you were an embarrassment to the family." However, I look at that statement as being just the icing on the cake.

So, let me get this straight...the best things that happened to me in my life happened after I mowed the tall grass that was situated to the side of a woman's palm reading business located on River Road in a place called Midway that was halfway between Rio Nido and Guerneville, CA.

I appreciated the fact that she read my palm/lines/dirty-finger-nails as a way to pay me...however, why did she keep the craziest and creepiest stuff about my future hidden from me as she must have clearly seen it all taking place?

Congress, while they are taking payola from every crook in the world, needs to pass a law that provide stiff penalties to palm readers who fail to disclose everything about the future that they clearly see happening to those sitting before them.