My dad arrested Abbie Hoffman during the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago.

Hoffman been running up and down the street with the word F*©k written on his forehead, hidden under a floppy hat, and he would jump in front of women on the street, lift the hat and yell 'yippie!' He really rattled a few people who reported him, so my father entered the diner where he was eating breakfast with Jerry Rubin, Allen Ginsberg and a few of their friends. He approached their table, told him a report had been made about him, confirmed the writing on his forehead, and then asked him to come with him. All of the people at the table linked arms. 'Well, it looks like I'm chained here and can't go with you.' And at that, one of the women at the table grabbed a piece of bacon and said 'here pig, have some pig' and threw it in my dad's face.

My dad was a pretty big guy back in the day, and he said, 'ok, lets go' and they still didn't budge, so he grabbed and yanked them and they all went flying out of the booth. He led Abbie Hoffman out to the car. My father was actually in plain clothes at the time and the diner was packed with police in uniform eating breakfast. They knew my father, but they all just sat there and greeted him as he walked Hoffman out of the restaurant asking 'Need any help John?' My dad replied 'No, I have it under control.'

Once they got in the car and started driving off to the station, Hoffman suddenly became terrified that they weren't the real police, he was quite paranoid that my father and his partner were perhaps some other possible party that might want to shut him up. The story ended up in the autobiography.

Now my friends like to tease my father that having me as his son is his karmic payback for arresting Abbie Hoffman.