The man on the bench was stupid enough to try drawing a gun. I was traveling at full speed. When I hit him, he landed on the sidewalk, skidded off it to the grass and tried to get up. He dropped the idea of using a gun and went for one of those lethal cyanide pens clipped to his breast pocket. I kicked him under the chin and then under the armit to paralize the fingers trying to pull the pen free. His arm went out. I stepped on his hand and removed the pen very carefully.

1964.