Montijo’s Apartment

I just needed $88 more dollars to get to Detroit

I finally got permission from my dad to travel to “Commie Camp” in Detroit the summer of 1975. I was 17 and you would’ve thought I’d been invited to Europe for the summer. As far as I could tell, the Motor City was entirely filled with charisma, a 100% working class town with factories and organizing opportunities on every corner, like pastry shops in Vienna. I could not wait.

I had no money for my destination, no ticket to ride. I was going to have to babysit and hamburger-fry my way to the revolution launch pad.

I had to figure a way out of LA. © Joel Levine

My father didn’t say anything directly about my plans‚ it was more like: “You earn it, you plan it, go ahead.” But his newest girlfriend, Debbie, didn’t hold back, and I heard her dramatizing it on the phone to one of her buddies.

“She wants to go to DETROIT for the summer—

“Ha! Yeah, I know, why not throw in Newark and Carbondale and make it like a cruise! I told Bill, I told him, you’re her father, you—

“No, no, I don't think she ha…