As time goes on things remain the same just different players

I ran away from my parents back in 1969. I was 14 and rode the Greyhound from Cincinnati to California. Street girls were called hippies and I became a prostitute handled by a hippie guy named Steve. I had a quota, and if I didn't make it used a paddle he had stole from a school. I got away from him when I was 18, got in a car with a man an offered him as much s** as he wanted if he took me with him and hid me from Steve. He was an undercover police officer and that's how Steve's stable got busted.

I was 18 and had aged out of any social service. I moved to Sacramento and worked the titti joints and became part of another stable. The truth is that you can't make it on the street alone. I was moved to Las Vegas where I worked the strip until I was 23 and no longer attractive, not to men who wanted juicy young girls. I started saving runaways and putting them to work and made a lot of money. I was careful as to who my clients were and kept myself and the girls out of trouble and the law.

I met a man in my forties and I moved with him to Oregon and I worked as a clerk for the city. I retired with a city pension and took care of that old goat until he died. I am now sitting here thinking of those days when I first ran away. I see runaways, I can pick them out real easy, all over Portland. I know what they do, and I can tell which ones are already hooked on drugs. There is nothing to do about it, if you pick them up, they are back on the street in a couple of days. That's where they want to be. It's sad, but home to them is on the streets, they prostitute for money to buy drugs and are protected by their stable owners and the cops on the payroll.

Things haven't changed much in 50 years.

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