He loaded me into our car, he drove from New York to Los Angeles in three days, and he started to remake himself as a security expert. He ordered cards saying he was in burglar alarms, but when they returned they read only “Fred Blankenhorn, burgler.”
He used the cards anyway, despite the typo, and the conversation starter got him in. He got into burglar alarms, bought a lock shop, and he kept the family together. (He is pictured near the end of the 1970s, on Balboa Bay in Newport Beach. Dad passed away in 1999.)
When I drove by the Tower TV 5 years after we moved, the store I had grown up in was gone, replaced by a real estate office. I don’t know what happened to the poor guy who bought it.