The Road Out of Hell (23 page)

Sanford (upper left center, with mustache) World War II, with fellow artillerymen.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

June and Sanford (in his army uniform), late 1940s.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Sanford near the end of World War II, February 1945.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Sanford, circa 1946.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Sanford’s mother, Winifred, circa 1948.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Sanford and Jerry, circa 1948.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Sanford and June with son Jerry, early 1950s.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Sanford and sister Jessie with their father, John Clark, 1950s.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

This is the expression that told June he needed help in coming back to the world.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Sanford’s local paper acknowledges his civic award.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Youngest Clark brother Ed with Sanford,
1966.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

June and Sanford, 50th wedding anniversary, 1985.

[COURTESY OF JERRY CLARK]

Nine

Jessie sat in a reading chair on the starboard side of the main passenger deck. The big commercial coast-liner made good speed southward out of Vancouver, and the July sun kept her warm. From her spot, she could just catch sight of the surface of the sea before it yielded to the slice of the bow. It was the first day of the long trip to the Port of Los Angeles, nearly a thousand miles away, but already the single men were becoming bothersome. They hovered around her even though she kept her eyes to herself, and in spite of her demure, neck-high dress of plain white cotton with black leggings and flat leather shoes. It seemed as if the simple facts of being nineteen, female, and unescorted were enough to make her irresistible to certain male travelers. She was going to have to grow some thorns.

“No,” she replied to the man’s question with a smile that was civil without signaling any personal encouragement. “My brother only runs the prison. He doesn’t have much to say about who they put there.” The motion of the ship rocked her head slightly from side to side while she spoke. She slowly turned the letter from her brother Sanford over in her fingers.

“Ohhh,” marveled the would-be suitor. “What a profession! No wonder you’re going to visit him. May I escort you to the dining hall?”

“Of course I’m not going to see him because of his occupation. We’ve always been close. He is so protective that I have to scold him about it. He seems to think that he has to personally check out every male in my vicinity.”

“Check them out?” he asked, the tiniest flash of concern registering in the back of his eyes.

“You know,” she whispered, “using his
sources.”

“You mean from the—”