Features

“Like I said, I’m for humanity first. I don’t care if a guy’s black, blue, white or orange.” He smiles. “Anybody who’s not a bigot is cool with me.”

Wolfe — a rookie cop who’d never even seen marijuana – slipped quietly into San Francisco’s seamy underworld as an undercover nar­cotics officer.

I spent the next few weeks tracking down and talking with some two dozen classmates to see how they had fared over the previous 12 years.

From the back of the church, you could not tell that the bride, a figure of beauty swathed in a tower of white chiffon, was a man.

A crowd of students gathered around a posted list of the numbers. Occasionally a yelp of “Hey, I’m way down at the bottom!” could be heard above the chatter.

“This group comes up and one of their caddies bets me he can throw a ball closer to the hole than I can hit one with a club.”