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ABSTRACT FRIDAY 10:03 (TWO-THIRDS OF A NOVEL) The following thesis represents two-thirds of a yet-to-be completed novel. During September, 1966, California is preparing to execute Eusebio Viramontes, condemned under a “Little Lindberg” law for kidnap, robbery, and sexual assault. He has authored two books and become a cause célèbre during eleven years on Death Row. His sister Felicia, a film student at UCLA and weekend participant in the Delano Grape Pickers’ Strike, hopes to gain public sympathy for a reprieve, but she is hampered by pregnancy and a strained relationship with her boyfriend, Albert Brofield. In a separate thread, Philip Tseng was prosecutor at Eusebio’s trial. Now he is a superior court judge and husband of a candidate for state superintendent of schools. French-born and half-Chinese, he is facing mid-life self doubt. In his spiritual questioning, he is drawn to Tom Garcia, pacifist and a leader of the capital punishment abolition movement. Just as Felicia sets in motion a UFW-style march from San Quentin to Sacramento, both Felicia and Judge Tseng are visited by Anna Sorenson, once Eusebio’s kindergarten-aged victim. Though emotionally fragile, she claims forgiveness for Eusebio. The novel contains a cameo appearance by Episcopal Bishop James Pike and historical references to Cesar Chavez, Chinese expatriates in France, Charles De Gaulle, and Capital Punishment as it was practiced in mid-20 th -century America. Brian T. Carroll May 2009 FRIDAY 10:03 (TWO-THIRDS OF A NOVEL) by Brian T. Carroll A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing in the College of Arts and Humanities California State University, Fresno May 2009 APPROVED For the Department of English: We, the undersigned, certify that the thesis of the following student meets the required standards of scholarship, format, and style of the university and the student's graduate degree program for the awarding of the master's degree. Brian T. Carroll Thesis Author David Anthony Durham (Chair) English Craig A. Bernthal English Alex Espinoza English For the University Graduate Committee: Dean, Division of Graduate Studies AUTHORIZATION FOR REPRODUCTION OF MASTER’S THESIS I grant permission for the reproduction of this thesis in part or in its entirety without further authorization from me, on the condition that the person or agency requesting reproduction absorbs the cost and provides proper acknowledgment of authorship. X Permission to reproduce this thesis in part or in its entirety must be obtained from me. Signature of thesis author: ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank the many family members, teachers, and friends who have read portions of this novel and given me helpful feedback. Most important of these are my wife, Vicki; my children, Matthew, Aileen, Lucien, Rebecca, and Timothy; my sister, Sally; Gloria Valladolid; my thesis committee chair, David Anthony Durham, and committee members Dr. Craig A. Bernthal and Alex Espinoza; unnamed judges of the 2007 American Christian Fiction Writers Genesis Contest; novelists James Scott Bell and Joseph Bentz; and the members of two workshops, the first at California State University, Fresno (Spring, 2005), under the direction of Dr. Bernthal, and the second at the Mount Hermon Christian Writers’ Conference (2008), led by Dr. Randall Ingermanson. Over the course of the nearly forty years that I have had this project in mind, I have lost track of many who gave me helpful information. However, certain individuals stand out. A young man whose name I forget gave me a walking tour of Hick’s Camp during the week before bulldozers razed it. Reginald Carroll gave me memories of working in Los Angeles’s Hall of Justice Building before it was condemned following the 1971 earthquake. Joe Hare gave me his memories as an assistant warden at San Quentin State Prison, and Ramon Rogers gave me an inmate’s view of Death Row. Rev. Michael D. Lampen, archivist at San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral, both furnished historical material and critiqued the chapter in question. My father, Donald N. Carroll, seeded much of my early thinking with his personal memories of growing up in Los Angeles and his dinner- table conversations about controversial issues. v However, although I have attempted to faithfully research the era and the locations, unless the characters portrayed in this story have appeared on the cover of Time Magazine, they are fictitious. In a couple of places, I have even tampered with geography or the historical record. None of it happened the way I tell it. TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter Page 1. SAN QUENTIN, CALIFORNIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1966, 9:16 A.M. 1 2. BEL AIR, THURSDAY, 5:38 P.M. 18 3. BERKELEY, THURSDAY, 6:15 P.M. 29 4. BEL AIR, THURSDAY, 6:26 P.M. 41 5. HIGHWAY 99, NEAR CHOWCHILLA, THURSDAY, 9:27 P.M. 54 6. BEL AIR, THURSDAY, 9:40 P.M. 57 7. DELANO, THURSDAY, 11:12 P.M. 68 8. BEL AIR, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 6:15 A.M. 71 9. WEST LOS ANGELES, FRIDAY, 1:22 P.M. 75 10. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES, FRIDAY, 11:20 A.M. 90 11. WEST LOS ANGELES, FRIDAY, 3:05 P.M. 95 12. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES, FRIDAY, 5:00 P.M. 112 13. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES, FRIDAY, 5:27 P.M. 129 14. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES, FRIDAY, 6:10 P.M. 138 15. EL MONTE, FRIDAY, 6:56 P.M. 145 16. BEL AIR, FRIDAY, 8:14 P.M. 152 17. WEST LOS ANGELES, FRIDAY, 9:10 P.M. 157 18. BEL AIR, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1966, 12:20 A.M. 164 19. WEST LOS ANGELES, SATURDAY, 1:00 A.M. 168 20. BEL AIR, SATURDAY, 7:30 A.M. 170 21. HWY 99, NEAR FAMOSO, SATURDAY, 10:48 A.M. 172 22. HWY 5, NEAR PYRAMID LAKE, SATURDAY, 11:17 A.M. 179 vii Chapter Page 23. HWY 99, NEAR MCFARLAND, SATURDAY, 12:00 NOON . 189 24. ALTAMONT PASS, SATURDAY, 6:20 P.M. 195 25. RICHMOND, SATURDAY, 6:38 P.M. 201 26. SAN FRANCISCO, SATURDAY, 9:15 P.M. 204 27. SAN QUENTIN, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1966, 7:10 A.M. 214 28. SAN FRANCISCO, SUNDAY, 9:25 A.M. 222 29. SAN QUENTIN, SUNDAY, 2:10 P.M. 235 30. SAN QUENTIN, SUNDAY, 2:26 P.M. 243 31. SAN QUENTIN, SUNDAY, 2:59 P.M. 251 32. SAN FRANCISCO, SUNDAY, 7:00 P.M. 252 33. SAN QUENTIN, MONDAY, 1:30 P.M. 261 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY . 270 Chapter 1 SAN QUENTIN, CALIFORNIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1966, 9:16 A.M. Countdown: Eight days and forty-four minutes The signal lamp atop the smoke stack glowed green. Five hundred yards to the east, up a steep hillside, and behind a set of white lace curtains, the young woman who confirmed that color nodded to herself, picked up a tie-dyed shoulder bag for the few seconds it took to pull out her driver’s license, and returned the bag to the Naugahyde sofa. From the back of the cottage, a gray-haired lady laid the newspaper across her lap. “Give him our greetings and tell him we’re thinking of him.” “Thanks, Nanna.” The standing woman clasped the doorknob in one hand. “I’ll stretch it as long as they let me.” “Yes, of course. Lunch is whenever you get back.” As the door opened, a gust of cold air burst into the room and the woman in the chair hollered to be heard. “Careful on the stairs.” Out on the porch, the young woman placed the driver’s license between her teeth while she grabbed the knob with both hands to yank it closed. Overcoming the wind, the door smacked into place with enough force to shake the whole wall. She turned to face San Francisco Bay, her long hair swirling around her shoulders and head. She used both hands to gather it at the nape, looked across the distance to the prison, and suffered an instant of indecision. Then she gave the hair a twist and dropped it inside the back of her smock. She took the ID from her 2 mouth, cupped it in one palm, and glanced again at the smokestack. No matter her personal agitation, green meant that the prison itself was quiet. With the same hand that held the paper card, she pulled the cotton blouse against her swollen belly, adding support, and crossed the stoop. As she started down the stairs, her other hand kept contact with the railing. She was muscular and large-boned, with Mesoamerican coloring made richer by the smock’s turquoise-and-yellow flower print, though she chose the outfit only to meet visitors’ regulations: it would distinguish her from the various categories of inmates and staff. The wooden stairs zigzagged their way to the street. She carried the baby high, with her shoulders back, making it difficult for her to see her feet on the steps. She was aware, from a slight movement at the gate, that she had attracted the attention of the guard. How they stayed awake, she could not fathom. At the bottom of the stairs, she glanced for traffic and scurried toward the protected walkway outside the visitor processing center, one hand still wrapped in front of the baby. Her sandals clapped against the blacktop as she did the best she could to lean into the wind. At the entrance, she grabbed the handrail to pull herself up the three stairs. Then she moved to a counter against the wall and picked up a blank form and a pencil.