What was it like, now, going into the five and ten seeing your neighbors going in before you, the sense of carnival and not knowing the danger.
I thin it's like ah--
Say, going in.
Going into the store was like a party that we would have every Saturday at your house, my house, someone else's house. Ah, only in the sense that, ah, there were certain people invited, just certain neighbors were there and myself. And, ah, going in there was, I wasn't afraid. There wasn't a sense of fear. There wasn't a sense of gaining anything. It was fun. It was a sense of fun, ah, exploring and doing something that you'd never done before. I felt kind of grown. I felt like, you know, "I'm here and no one, the rest of the kids are home but I'm here. So, I'm doing what everybody, all the grown ups are doing." That's really how I felt. I remember being, I was the only kid in the store. Everyone else was grown. And, ah, I remember going, being asked to come in the back by them because someone outside shouted, "The police are coming." Everyone ran to the back. I was asked to run to the back. I ran to the back. Hid behind some bolt-ends of carpeting. I remember getting up to come to the door, which was what I did. I did get up and come to the door to see the, the officer standing there with the gun, who had asked us to come out, you know. And, um, I turned around, I, I remember hearing someone in the back saying, "No! Come back Albert, come back!" And as I turned to go back to hide with them I remember, ah, just seeing a flash and going, turning around, and going to lay down on the carpet, ah, to wake up and find myself in the hospital after that, because it's, I don't remember, that's all I remember, it's, it's like as if I went to sleep. And I woke up, I guess it was the next day, maybe, in, ah, Detroit General Hospital. And I think that's about all I remember there, ah.