Devil at My Heels - Louis Zamperini [132]
We also provided counseling. That’s the important part. I’d get the kids up to the cabins, sit them around a fire, and get them to talk about their lives. At some point I’d offer the Scriptures, but I applied no pressure. The rest was up to the boys. Most listened, a few didn’t; either way they usually got it together.
Now I’ll speak to a group and inevitably some older guy with gray temples will come up and say, “I was in your camp when I was fourteen, and you really straightened me out.” That’s a thrill.
SOMETIMES THE PEOPLE interested in Christianity surprised even me.
Mickey Cohen, the Los Angeles mobster, loved athletes. Jim Vaus, his former wiretapper, who’d come to the Lord at the same time I had and now just did electronic security consulting, said Cohen wanted to meet me. I guess Jim had laid the groundwork, because we had a nice conversation about sports, the war, and my conversion. Cohen wanted to know all the details. Afterward, he kept calling and Cynthia and I even met him for lunch at the Brown Derby, on Wilshire. Then he wanted to introduce me to his new girlfriend; I met them at his haberdasher. He was a former boxer, a thug, so I wondered what kind of a girl he’d be attracted to. She was a big, buxom blonde, sweet and friendly but kind of naïve. I guess that after he’d met Cynthia he wanted me to know he had a nice girlfriend, too. I also figured out pretty quickly that he just wanted to be around people associated with culture. He wanted to move easily in other parts of society.
One night Cohen called me very late and asked me to come to his home. I drove up, alone. Floodlights went on automatically as I pulled into the driveway. A henchman opened the door. Inside, I saw a half-eaten turkey in the dining room, and a ham, like he’d had a party. Jim Vaus was there. Mickey offered me food, then took me on a tour of his closet, which seemed more like a room-length hallway. On one side he had about a hundred suits, plus overcoats and shoes. He said, “Anything that’ll fit you, you can have.” Vaus, a fat guy, took a beautiful overcoat. Nothing fit me, which was just as well, since I wouldn’t have taken his clothes anyway.
Then Cohen showed me his escape chute. If there was a raid on his place or if some other gang guys tried to get him, he’d go down this chute. The door would lock behind him automatically, and he’d end up in the basement.
After we chatted for a while, I said, “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow at noon.” I dismissed myself and went home. Two weeks later I was at the Coliseum for a football game and I saw former USC All-American John Ferraro, then police commissioner who later became a Los Angeles councilman. He yelled, “Hey, Zamperini! What were you doing at Mickey Cohen’s house Saturday night?” Evidently they’d had a stakeout.
All I could say was, “You know what I was doing there!” I was there to tell Mickey about Christ.
IN 1954 I got one of the greatest surprises of my life when someone in sportscaster Elmer Peterson’s office said he’d like to interview me. I’d done the show a few times and thought nothing of it.
A man picked me up at my home and took me to the studio. We went to Peterson’s door and it was locked. My driver said, “Well, we’ll have to wait until Mr. Peterson gets here, I guess.” We stood around outside, in the shadow of the huge soundproof doors of the El Capitan Theater, and after a while I got fidgety, so I said, “Are you sure you have the right time?”
“Oh, yeah, he should be here any minute.”
All of a sudden the big doors slid open. A bright light shone in my face, blinding me, and I backed away. Then, I heard a voice saying, “Louie Zamperini!