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By Jack Joseph Smith
It is in June of 1966. Stavrogin Bash walks along the old
Pacific Coast Highway. He had left San Francisco in the early
morning and been lucky with hitch-hiking so the sun was still
rather high. Stavrogin is twenty five years old and out of
shape for a middle weight boxing type. He's been teaching drama
on a grant from the Poverty Program in Pittsburgh for the last
eighteen months. But at the end, things started to fall apart.
His wife left him with their little daughter,