The Don Price story goes back eighty-three years to 1926 when my dad was born. That would include things about his own family made up of five uncles who went to prison, and his own father who spent time in prison. Those were the bootleg days of America, when a neighbor could have been running a still.
At an early age, say by the time he could go around the block and spot a certain black car, which would have the cops or feds in it, he would run back to the house to tell my grandfather. My dad's favorite uncle was gunned down by the cops in a payroll heist.
Eventually, dad ended up in a broken home and was sent to live with his grandfather in Grand Rapids, Michigan by the age of thirteen. There he was taught how to drink booze by his grandfather, so he could learn how to hold it when he got older. That turned out to be a lie from the pit of hell. He never learned how to hold liquor--liquor held him--and he became an alcoholic. His grandfather professed to be an infidel who challenged God to strike him dead with a bolt of lightening if He was real.
The good influences were not there growing up. He heard himself referred to as the little brat who needed to be move out of the house. That's when he was sent to live with his grandfather in Grand Rapids Michigan. Eventually, that became his excuse to run away, back to Indiana, to look for his father. He found him on the day he was getting out of prison after five years of serving time. On that day in a car with his dad, they saw the man who turned in my grandfather to the feds. My dad saw my grandfather run the guy off the road, pull the man out of the car, and almost beat him to death. These were the beginning years of my dad's life.