My cat and I are in a room on 42nd Street. She’s looking out the window at a drug deal in the street. I’m looking at the slaughter of four unarmed kids on campus.
I was taking the elevator down to the street. At one of the floors, Sterling Hayden got in, just the two of us in the elevator. He was a tall (6 feet 5) imposing man with an impressive beard at the time.
He was always speeding. Racing time. I was the little boy sitting next to him.