ABSTRACT
When I was a boy, like most rural-raised boys, I dreamed of living in the city. I would often get presents from my glamorous older sister Claudia, who'd moved first to St. Louis, then Dallas, then-gasp!-Chicago; she was sort oflike a fairy godmother to me. I didn't see her except at holidays, but I thought she was wonderful, and therefore, cities must be wonderful. Now, my parents had emigrated from Orange County, California, about a year before I was born, because it was getting too "congested" (remember, 1960--that meant the lots were down to half-acre size, and they were in danger of putting in sidewalks) and crime-ridden. They had no illusions about city life. But whenever we went to visit the cousins, back at the old homestead, or family friends in Portland, I got very excited.
