Ah the uni-bomber . . . when I was younger, so much younger than today — I was making deliveries to UC Berkeley. One day after having finished with my deliveries, on my way home, I stopped at a crosswalk to let a hobo cross. Being on the clock, and done for the day, I didn’t care how long it took for Ted to cross the street. The guy in the car behind me —he was a little more anxious. The guy behind me starts honking his horn. Now the Ted is walking in the same manner as Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein (walk this way). As if one leg is half the length of the other. The Ted stops, slowly he turns, and — and begins barking at my car, not in the manner of a man pretending to be a dog, but in the manner of a very pissed off dog. I locked the doors, pushed the up button on my arm-rest and set the pedal to the metal.
About ten years later I see a picture of him being arraigned.
This is my memory of the Ted.