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Monthly Archives: June 2007

The Swimming Hole

by

R.E. Prindle

Clip 2: Continuation and Conclusion

     While their land was returned to them they had lost all desire to return to their former way of life.  All travel broadens and the sojourn in Boston had been very broadening.  Jorge was embittered and full of hatred for the ‘White man’, but his spirit was also thoroughly cowed.  He always remained humble and submissive before Whites but this was his economic asset.  In many ways he became a clown and entertainer for them.  The response is not unusual when faced by seemingly overwhelming power.

     Benito returned to the States in ’48 no less angry and embittered.  The American Japanese in Japan had been in a difficult position which produced a unique psychological type.  They had been unwanted by Whites.  On the one hand they had not been allowed to become citizens of the United States while on the other the Japanese government didn’t want them as citizens of Japan but wanted to claim them as overseas Japanese citizens.  Thus when Benito among thousands of others returned to Japan for japanification he and they were not trusted or wanted by the Japanese.  They were followed and spied on, which, of course, such spying could have been the normal situation in Japan as it is now in the United States.  The American Japanese had definitely fared better in the the US than the Nisei in Japan.  Generally speaking they were neither here nor there.  As it was expressed they had an American center and a Japanese exterior neither of which was acceptable in the respective countries.

    Thus as the Sukamotos began their import business Benito or Ben as he was now known was well prepared to deal with the Japanese contacts and Jorge, which he now pronounced George, with his attitude was able to deal very productively with his fellow Americans.  They wanted to make amends and Jorge was a lovable guy who seemed to reciprocate their kindness.

page 51.

     In retrospect Jorge could see no reason for the internment of the Japanese.  The internment is a complex issue when one looks into it and the decision to do it was not without reasons.  The PC version is that the reason was purely White bigotry and greed.  Whites wanted all those Japanese iceboxes left behind.  There are some complex economic issues involved that I can’t go into in this novel.

     The reality was far more complex.  It can only be understood in historical perspective.  For two hundred years prior to 1853 the Japanese had closed their borders insulating the country from foreign influences.  When Admiral Perry violated Japanese integrity forcing them into the community of nations at cannon point in 1853 he set in motion a sequence of events that led inexorably to Pearl Harbor.

     The Japanese responded to Perry’s act of agression by aggressive westernization.  They realized the inadequacy of their military, political and social organization to deal with a more advanced system.  The 1860s, ’70s and ’80s were spent educating themselves.  The studied the Western nations noting their strengths and weaknesses.  By 1895 they had successfully attacked their giant neighbor, China, repeating a sixteenth century act, receiving a huge indemnity.  They then challenged Russia for control of Manchuria.  This was successfully brought to a conclusion in 1905 as Japan became recognized as a major power.

     Japanese hatred which by then had become megalomaniacal was then directed against the United States and England.  Americans had further exacerbated the Japanese attitude by a gratuitous act of violence which turned out very favorably for the Japanese.  The Planters who accupied Hawaii established large sugar and pineapple plantations which required large numbers of laborers.  They could only be found in the East.  Mexico was too far away.  The Planters first tried the Chinese.  They didn’t want these colored people to stay but when their contracts expired the Chinese refused to go back to China.

pae 52.

     The Planters then turned eyes on Japan.  They requested, perhaps demanded, that the Japanese give them laborers.  The Japanese having just come out of isolation refused.  The Planters then sent a ship to Yokohama where they forcibly abducted over a hundred persons.  A light went on in the minds of the Japanese leaders.  They weren’t stupid, just short.  Japanese laborers went to Hawaii and they did come back when their contracts expired.  The Planters did pay well; much more than could be earned in Japan.  The laborers lived frugally returning with substantial bankrolls thus strengthening the Japanese economy.  In this sense the US bankrolled WWII in the Pacific much as they are now bankrolling the Chinese by transferring all production to China.

     But each passing year many more Japanese went out than came back.  The Japanese became the largest nationality in the Islands.  Just as the Japanese began to look on Hawaii as their prerogative the Planters became alarmed at the Japanese presence.  In 1896 the Planters rejected a shipload of Japanese sending them back.  A Japanese warship was promptly in Pearl Harbor demanding an explanation.  The Planters turned to the United States with the result that the independent kingdom of Hawaii was annexed to the United States.  The Japanese who thought they had a valid claim to the Islands because, after all, the Japanese were the most numerous nationality , refused to accept the action of the United States.  To this day they feel the islands belong to them.  They almost got them during their late twentieth century period of prosperity.

page 53.

     Bolstered by their success against China Japanese spirits soared, after the conquest of Manchuria the Japanese felt invincible.  They had studied American History.  They had noted that the Americans infiltrated Texas until they had the numerical strength to wrest it from Mexico.  They were in a position to do to the same to America in California.

     Thus about 1900 Japanese began to take advantage of America’s ridiculous immigration policy arriving in numbers.  The White Californians had already experienced one oriental threat.  When the Chinese began to arrive in numbers in mid-nineteenth century the Californians had acted quickly obtaining a Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882.  The cry had been taken up that California was ‘White man’s country.’  There can be little doubt to any reasonable person that if the Chinese had not been excluded the West Coast today would be a Chinese province.  This may or may not be desirable depending on your perspective.

     Regardless of one’s opinion the West Coast was kept an American province.  The Japanese who began to arrive were almost entirely male.  The Californians believed that they were paramilitary troops, especially in the wake of the Russo-Japanese war.  There can’t be much doubt that they were right.  The population of California at the time of the Chinese Exclusion was around a half million and in 1900 around a million.  One doesn’t have to be all that mathematically inclined to realize that a half million Japanese men could cause quite a disturbance.  The Californians lobbied hard to stop Japanese immigration before it attained those numbers.  They were partially successful when Theodore Roosevelt entered into the ‘Gentlemen’s Agreement’ to limit Japanese immigration.

page 54.

     Fearing that an invasion was probable the Californians began a series of legislative acts to harass the Japanese, to deny them access to power.  An antagonism was established which ended only with the conclusion of the Pacific War.  Even T. Roosevelt realized in 1908 that a war between the US and Japan was inevitable.  He gave it thirty years which wasn’t too far off the mark.

     As Japanese power increased so did Californians’ vigilance.  In 1910 Japan annexed Korea.  For some reason the Koreans do not have fond memories of the Japanese occupation.  One imagines the situation would have been the same with the Japanese in control of California.  The Japanese joined in the Great War which meant nothing to them to obtain Germany’s Far East and Pacific possessions.

     The paramilitary troops that came over in the first decade of the century had no women.  If they left the US to procure one they were denied reentry.  Thus the period of Picture Brides began.  In the years around 1920 Japanese women began to arrive which prompted a new series of repressive legislation.  The Californians harried the Japanese like a professional football offense against a high school defense.

    An uneasy truce was established through the thirties as the Japanese ‘illegally’ fortified their newly acquired German islands like Iwo.  When Pearl Harbor was bombed the Californians could say with justice:  We were right all along.  We told you so.

page 55.

     The Nisei, or first generation of Amerian born Japanese, were of a different frame of mind than the Issei or Island born Japanese.  Therein is the real crux of the problem.  Japanese language papers were bilingual, partially in Japanese, partially in English.  Now, the United States government was not all that stupid either.  They read the papers in both languages.  While the American portion was innocuous and innocent the Japanese portion was a blood curdling call to arms to support Japanese worldwide objectives.  Thus, regardless of whether in retrospect the internment was necessary it was justified on the basis of the attitude of the Issei who  Californians had called paramilitary troops.

     After all the Japanese did expect their nationals to revolt in Hawaii supporting the attack.  The shelling of Santa Barbara by a submarine was probably intended for San Pedro which would have been the signal for an uprising in LA much as Homer Lea had warned about in 1910.  So also the shelling on the Oregon coast.  The expectation of the rising was unrealistic  but so was the whole Japanese war plan.

     Within the camps the Japanese nationalists fought for control.  After the war many of the Issei repatriated to Japan.  Whether one wants to argue whether the internment was justified or not, war is hell, mistakes are made.

     Jorge didn’t take a historical view.  He had not been interned but he refused to examine the problem from any point of view but his injured national pride.  None of his subseqent excellent good fortune mattered to him.  Neither the money nor his family was allowed to assuage his anger.  Jorge had married a Jewish woman by the name of Piti.  If anything she exacerbated Jorge’s anger for she added the whole train of Jewish anguish to Jorge’s Japanese one.  Jorge was constantly on the lookout to humiliate Whites in the same manner he felt he had been humiliated.  This meant leasing to novices, acquiring what money they had and then turning them out.

page 56.

     He and Ben were very aggressive in business.  They expanded well ahead of their resources counting on the leniency of their White bankers which they always received.

     At the time they bought the building which they renamed Pilgrim’s Center Portland’s downtown area had gone through massive changes which put it on the brink of extinction.  Dozens of square blocks of high density housing had been leveled to build a freeway bypass on the west of the core area.  Dozens more square blocks to the southeast of downtown had been leveled by Urban Renewal to build office buildings and high rise apartments.

     The Lloyd Shopping Center had been built to the northeast.  A pedestrian mall had been built down Fifth and Sixth which closed some doors because of contruction woes and changed traffic patterns so that some businesses formerly profitable were no longer so.  The rational was that to make an omelette you have to crack a few eggs.  Of course, someone else’s eggs were cracked but the omelet went to other people who didn’t pay for the eggs.  Fairness doctrine.

     There were several empty buildings on Third and Fourth.  Pilgrims, on Tenth, was completely outside normal shopping patterns.  It was at this time the Sukamotos bought Pilgrim’s and Dewey expanded his operation to Portland from Eugene.

page 57.

     Dewey’s success in Eugene had been won against the wishes of the Old Boy Network.  While the Japanese Sukamotos had been given lavish credit and terms, the White Boy, Dewey, hadn’t been able to raise a dime.  All his expansion had been internally financed.

      When he had approached Universal National Bank he had been severely rebuffed.  Brian Ashworth his loan officer, had been instructed by the Old Boys, of which the officers of UNB were pillars, to tell Trueman in no uncertain terms  that not only was there no money to loan him but that he was not even to attempt expansion or else.  Trueman had been so informed.  But what’s a poor boy without friends to do?  Go ahead.

     Dewey approached Tom Adams of Bashaw and Bashaw to help him find a location in Portland.  Dewey knew that B&B was Old Boy but he trusted to his luck for another end run.  The Old Boys played with him.  He was put in the hands of Dorian King, a large property owner in Portland.

     King showed him a couple of his properties on Third and Fourth which no longer had traffic but they weren’t what Dewey had in mind.  He could see that they were suicide locations.  King did have an empty space on Sixth above Alder which was the core of the core.  Dewey eagerly grasped for it but King rented it to a brokerage firm, Barton-Osborne, with the explanation that BO was permanent while Dewey wasn’t.  The joke was that BO went broke and was gone within a year.

     Dewey complained to Adams about the run around.  The papers had gone through on Sukamoto’s building so as a favor to them Trueman was given to them as a gift by the Old Boy Network.

page 58.

     As noted the Jewish Network had labeled Trueman as an anti-Semite because of the hostility of Harry Grabstein in Eugene.  Such accusations are automatically accepted, Trueman had no opportunity for defense or appeal.  As an outlaw he had even no avenue of complaint.  We Americans know how to deal with our bigots.  In reverse Nazism we turn them over to the minorities to torment.

     It is always assumed that if, for instance, one were an anti-Semite that that antagonism is extended to every other ‘minority.’  Thus Dorian King was Jewish.  He had gotten a few kicks running Trueman around.  The Old Boy and Jewish Networks had gotten a few chuckles. 

      All of these people despised Trueman’s abilities.  They thought his success had been all luck.  They didn’t think he had the chance of a snowball in Jamaica to succeed in Portland.  So they thought if the Sukamotos made a few bucks off him so much the better.  In fact expansion might be a way to get rid of him.  Many successful businesses failed in the expansion attempt.

     The Sukamotos were just beginning the conversion of Pilgrim’s into an indoor mall.  The center would require over a year before it was open but as Dewey wanted a large space he was told he could have a corner with an outside entrance in the meantime.

     He was in a hurry.  He was fearful that the record business was about to peak which it was .  Tenth was a nice broad street with plenty of vacant parking at the time.  Dewey said he would take it.  Once again negotiations dragged on and on.

page 59.

     Trueman reported to Sukamoto World Headquarters once a week for over a month.  Negotiations were carried on in broom closets and interrogation like cells, no windows,  with a single naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling.  Jorge and Ben sat across from him over a plain wooden table and wooden chairs.  Ben said nothing staring at Dewey with unblinking intensity.  Jorge was garrolous although mysterious.  He plied Dewey with endless questions but gave out an amazing amount of information about he and Ben, where they came from and where they hoped to go.

     Dewey had Jorge figured at a glance.  His past was as plain on his face as Dewey considered his own to be.  Dewey recognized that they were brothers in experience and acted accordingly.  Oddly enough Jorge was not so astute.  There was a glass wall between him and any White man.

     Finally, the lease having been signed Dewey was led from the interrogation cell to Jorge’s desk.  The desk was in the center of a large dormitory like room surrounded by the desks of the White bookkeepers, buyers and clerks.  Jorge had no Japanese working for him.

     Ben’s desk was to the left a couple feet behind Jorge’s.  Ben took up a position leaning forward from the edge of his seat staring intently into Dewey’s face.  Dewey flashed a grin at him aware of the game.

     He looked ahead of him and there hung conspicuously on a post before his visitor’s chair was a framed copy of the LA evacuation notice.  Dewey who had never seen one examined it closely.  The poster with absurd apologetic politeness requested the assembly of Los Angeles’ Japanese population for transfer to the internment camps all in English.  Dewey knew what it was there for.  After the treatment he had received from the Sukamotos he was spoiling for a fight.  He had the upper hand.  He could easily win the battle but he would lose the war.

page 60

     ‘What do you think of that?’  Jorge asked his test question but he didn’t make a gesture indicating the poster.

    ‘What do I think of what?’  Dewey replied guardedly, wary of a trap.

     ‘That.’  Jorge said, pointing at the poster.

     Dewey recognized a kindred spirit in Jorge.  He realized that they had both suffered the same denial.  It was clear that they were both trying to prove themselves.  Jorge had accepted the role of inferior which he expressed in his clownish persona with the seat of his pants hanging down nearly to his ankles, his sweater with gaping holes in it, his ridiculous scraggly Abe Lincoln beard, his trademark well chewed, unlit stogee and exaggerated manner of speech.

     Dewey was more into aggressive self-assertion as he overdressed in high style fitted suits.  Everything about him offered a challenge to those trained to social acceptability.  He knew that even if Jorge recognized the affinity, which he did but refused to accept, that he would opt to side with oppressor.  Jorge had rather be a successful clown to his oppressors than stand a free man.  Dewey knew what it meant to be a clown for acceptance, traces still lingered in his personality but he sought to exorcise them.

page 61.

     ‘I’ve never really seen one of the posters before.’  He replied amiably.  ‘Not very good art work.  I thought you were from Portland, I didn’t know you were from LA.’

     Jorge ostentatiously cleared his throat.  ‘I’m not.  I wasn’t there.’

     ‘Oh well, what camp were you in?’

     ‘Uh, hum.  I wasn’t in any camp.’

     ‘No?  Where were you during the war?’

     ‘I was in Boston.’  Jorge cleared his throat and looked away.  ‘I was earning my degree from Harvard.’

     ‘Oh!’  Dewey exclaimed, envy flashing through his mind.  ‘Well, then, what’s your complaint?’

     ‘Don’t you think it was terrible what they did to my people?’  Jorge pressed.

     ‘You ever been in the orphanage?’  Dewey threw out irrelevantly.  ‘Well, yes, but there was a reason.’  Dewey said matter-of-factly.

     ‘Sure there was, racism.’  Jorge said sullenly.  ‘The only reason they dropped the atomic bomb on us was because we’re colored.’  Jorge added forgetting his pure Americanism for an instant in favor of Pan-Japanism.

     ‘That is absolutely not true.’  Dewey stated.

     Jorge who had been lounging in his chair lunged upright.  ‘It certainly is.  White Americans would never have used the Atom bomb on White Germans.’

     ‘If you examined the history of the Bomb, Jorge, I think you would find that its destined use was against Germany.  It’s just that the war against Germany ended before the Bomb was ready.’

page 62.

     ‘That’s nonsense.’  Jorge retorted indignantly.

     ‘No.  It’s not, Jorge, just listen.’  Ben leaned closed, Jorge glared at Dewey intently.

     ‘The A-Bomb is wholly a Jewish discovery.  The preliminary work was developed in Germany.  The theory was what the Nazis called ‘Jewish physics.’  They ran the Atomic theorists out of Germany.  The Jews went to England and mostly to the United States.  By the late thirties when Nazi antagonism to the Jews became apparent the Jews had the basic theory for the development of the Bomb, the Super-Weapon, but they didn’t have the means to build it or deliver it.

     After the war started and Hitler’s intent became clear Jewish fear demanded the weapon.  FDR was approached to fund the Atomic program but he failed to see the Bomb’s utility.  Another Jew was detailed by the Jewish government to persuade FDR to fund the program which he successfully did.

     Thus the theory, the implementation of the program, the scientists and even the spies were all Jews.  Just as the Germans were rounding up Jews in Europe so the Jews in America wanted camps established for those who didn’t accept their program.  Or as the Jews call them, anti-Semites.  Now, the Jews didn’t care about America’s enemy, Japan, they were only concerned with their enemy Nazi Germany.

     They had devised incredible punishments for Germany.  Had American power been completely at their disposal they would have had the Germans exterminated.  Henry Morgenthau, Jr., the same patriotic American who gave the Soviets the plates, dyes and paper to print American occupation currency, wanted to turn Germany into a desert.

     Had the Bomb been ready in time they would have.  If there had only been one sample available it would have been used against Germany rather than Japan.  Had two been available they would both have been used against Germany.

    If the Japanese had devised the Bomb you may be sure that would have been racists enough to use it against the US population without any remorse.

     Even then, Jorge, and this is an odd historical fact, the Bombs were deployed over Nagasaki and Hiroshima which were both centers of Japanese Catholicism or Christianity.  So, no, Jorge, there was no racism involved, it was just that the German war was over before the Bomb was ready.  However, they may have been some religious bigotry involved of some sort.’

      Jorge stared at Trueman dumbly.  No White man he had over known had ever defended himself before.  Lacking the information to affirm or argue he just waved Trueman’s discussion away.

     ‘That’s not the only thing they did to my people.’  Jorge retorted indignantly shifting to a different tack and forgetting again that he was a pure American.  ‘In 1906, maybe ‘o5 or ’07 they made the Japanese attend segregated schools in San Francisco.  They said we weren’t good enough to sit with White people.’

     ‘Yeah, I know.’  Dewey said laconically.  He had been a History major and still read.  He knew a little and thought indenpendently, not having been cowed in graduate school.

     ‘Don’t you think that’s terrible?’

     ‘Yes, I do.  I think it’s worse than terrible, especially since a very similar thing happened to me.  But, so what.  No one I’ve ever met wants to hear my story or give me sympathy for a minute.  They say it happens to everybody; just the wear and tear of living.  I can’t give to you who are on their side what you won’t give to me.’

     Jorge sat erect quivering; Ben’s normally impassive expression was turned into a smiling unbelieving sneer.

     ‘How could any such thing happen to you? You’re White.’  Jorge spat out contemptuously.

      Dewey’s mind clicked into place behind the first chamber.  He knew then that he hated the Sukamotos.  Here was a man before him demanding sympathy for what happened not to him but to others of ‘his people’ but refusing sympathy for a harsher reality.  Dewey looked up from under his brows and pressed the crease of the knee of his pants between his thumb and forefinger.

     ‘I was in the orphanage, Jorge.’  He said very quietly, seriously enough to have put Sukamoto on notice.

     ‘That’s nothing!’  Snapped Sukamoto whose mind was so twisted by his own self-pity that he was insensitive to anyone else’s misfortunes.

     ‘No?  Well, it is something, Jorge.’  Trueman contradicted quietly.  ‘I know first hand what you can only talk about as happening to ‘your people.’  That is exactly what is nonsense.’

     ‘You weren’t ever in a concentration camp.’  Jorge said defensively.

     ‘Neither by your own admission were you, Jorge.  You were partying at Harvard University.  The orphanage is a concentration camp.  I’m not sure any ‘American citizen’ was in a concentration camp.  If an American says he was he’s a liar.’

     ‘How about Hitler’s camps?’ Jorge persisted tacitly acknowledging the international character of the Jews.

page 65.

     ‘Well, now, if you want to talk about one’s ‘people’, Jorge, my people were slaughtered in the millions by Nazis, Communists and Japanese.’

      ‘You’re not Jewish.’  Jorge persisted contemptuously and irrelevantly.

     ‘No, I’m not.  But I am Polish…’

     The Sukamotos laughed out loud.  ‘Trueman’s not a Polish name.  Was it Truemanski before you changed it?’

     ‘This is America, Jorge, you’ve got to look behind the facade.  Trueman isn’t Polish but Sepaniak is.  That was my mother’s maiden name.  My mother divorced before I was three.  We went to live with my Polish grandmother before I was put in the orphanage.  So my Polish people were slaughtered by the million.  But I’m not Polish or English, I’m American Jorge.

      What was experienced in internecine European warfare had nothing to do with immigrants who left for America of any those nationalities.  You are of Japanese ancestry yet you told me that you are different from native Japanese.  You are a loyal American you say yet at the same time the Bomb was dropped on ‘your people.’  Well, you’re either Japanese or American.  Jew or American.  You can’t claim dual citizenship.  If so you might as well claim as John Donne:  No man is an island…Send not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.  In that case we are all one, races, nationalities, religions don’t matter.  Which is it?  Take your choice.

     Besides which the orphanage was a type of concentration camp.  We were segregated from the general population and told we were inferior.  We were made to wear funny clothing just as the Jews were made to wear the yellow star.  We were told that we could neither speak to or associate with non-orphans.  In spite of the sacred Judeo-Christian repository of morality which repeatedly inveighs against depriving orphans of their rights we were deprived of our rights.

page 66.

     You, who graduated from Harvard, during the war with Japan, mention the segregation of Japanese children in 1906.  That incident didn’t even go on for weeks, furthermore it didn’t happen to you, Jorge Sukamoto.  As you say, it happened to ‘your people’ who were Japanese citizens, not even Americans.  If you want prejudice, the Japanese didn’t even want Westerners walking on their sacred soil.

     Let me tell you what happened to me.  Me, Jorge, myself, my person, not a hundred years ago or to persons in some far off land, but to me in the here and now in the USA.

     I’ve heard Jews and Italians become tearful because they were once called a kike or wop.  Some tragedy.  We were called worse.  They, at least, had the support of their own community, their Anti-Defamation Leagues, their Mafias or whatever.  We Orphans had nothing!  Not even group solidarity.  We were outside the law.  We belittled each other more than others belittled us which was considerable.  I know you understand that, Jorge.

     The Jews complain that in Poland they had a Jew bench against the wall in school that they were compelled to sit on.  Well, we had an orphan wall against which we had to sit.  Not just one month or one year but all year, every year.  At recess we were compelled to sit on a bench watching the others play.  If we tried to friendly with anyone we were beaten.  We were compelled to use the alleys to walk to school, Jorge.  We weren’t allowed to be seen on the city streets.  If we did venture onto the streets, Mr Sukamoto, we were beaten.  We were beaten, Mr. Sukamoto, and I don’t mean by kids our own size.  I mean grown men ran, dashed across streets to hit us around, driving us back into the alleys.  You don’t know how my heart bleeds for your poor ‘people’ Mr. Harvard Graduate Sukamoto.

     Now, when you were a Japanese at Harvard during a war with Japan were you ever physically assaulted?  I didn’t think so.  Well, who do you think was persecuting we orphans?  No, not Japanese, there weren’t any in the Valley.  But don’t think it was only Anglos, Jorge.  Even as the horrors of the Nazis unfolded some who persecuted us were Jews.  Some were Italians proud to do the dirty work granted them by Anglos.  They were all of them, Anglos or minorities proud, eager to beat up small orphan children.  Yes, the truth is incredible isn’t it?

     Don’t you sneer at my experience, Sukamoto.

     So, sure, never send for whom the bell tolls, I’ve sympathy for you, the Jews, the Blacks.  it’s just that except for possibly the Blacks I don’t think you’ve got a hell of a lot of room to talk.  None of your ‘people’s’ internal histories show that you’re such kind and generous people, you all persecute who you’re able.  I don’t see persecution, Jorge, I just see a lot of rotten people throwing rocks at each other.  So, yeah, I can sympathize with your stupid poster but, so what?’

     ‘I don’t believe you.’  Jorge blurted out heatedly.  ‘That stuff couldn’t ever happen to Whites in America.  This is a White country.  You’re White, not colored.  It couldn’t have happened in America.’

page 68.

    ‘You calling me a liar, Sukamoto?  You think I’d bother to make this stuff up to entertain a non-entity like you.  You’re colored, sure but you’re one of the Old Boys.  You’re treated better than me by the Whites you hate.  They’ve turned me over to you to be exploited.  You think because I’m not dark complected my origins don’t show?

     How do you think I got this hang-dog expression on my face?  How do you think I got this stupid apologetic manner, my infernal politeness to creeps?  The same way you got yours, Jorge.  Only I’m not a wimp.  I don’t go around complaining like a limping, whimpering dog.  I walk like a man, I don’t live my life on my knees before the oppressor like you do, Sukamoto.’

     Dewey was getting a little heated, his voice rose and he began to tremble over his whole body.  He began to actually bounce in his chair.

     ‘Do you know what they used to do, Sukamoto?  I probably know more about fine things than you do.  Do you know how I learned?  They used to take small groups of us to teas in the best homes in the Valley.  They used to show us all their little treasures, indicating the finer points.  They laughed at our gauche manners, then when we were dismissed we were told that this life style, those things, were never meant for scum like us, that we could never have them, would be allowed to have them.  All that imprinted a sullen expectation on my face, my walk, my talk, my behavior.  Not everyone can see it but people in the right places see it and it is a signal to deny me because their class has stigmatized me.  What you see before you Sukamoto is not me but the product of your machinations.

page 69.

     Now, our characters are quite similar, Sukamoto, but you benefit from the treatment the Japanese received during the war.  I have forever been made an outcast.  Why do you think you got me?

     You say this Mr. Whatisname at Universal National Bank has always treated you Japanese kindly; that he’s given you loans that you weren’t entitled to  in amounts in excess of what you were entitled to.  Well, you’re colored and I’m White, Jorge, but I don’t get any loans at all and I’ve got a very successful business.  They just play despicable games with me.  So who’s discriminated against?  Colored boy like you, or White boy like me?’

     But Jorge Sukamoto’s life was bracketed by his self-pity.  He couldn’t sympathize with any White person even though a brother under the skin.  He couldn’t see that as a universal soldier his color didn’t matter.  He was of the the class that persecuted Dewey.  Dewey saw him merely as an Old Boy oppressor not as a colored person.  Jorge couldn’t perceive America in its true light.  He was a bigot.

     ‘I don’t care.  You’re White.’   He limped.

     Dewey got up to leave with his signed lease in his hand, ‘By the way, I’d take that stupid poster down if I were you.’

     Jorge snarled into the holes of his sweater than played his trump.   ‘By the way Dewey,’ he said with a wry smile.  ‘My wife is Jewish.’

     Dewey had an overtrump.  ‘So’s mine.’  He said over his shoulder as he walked away.

page 70.

     Ben got wonderingly from his chair walking slightly ahead of Jorge’s desk where they both watched open mouthed as Dewey left.  They were astounded at Dewey.  Never had any White person been anything but subservient before the poster.  Everything he had said had been new to them.  Not necessarily believable in their eyes, but new.

     That Dewey was an orphan stirred deep prejudices in them of which they were not aware.  In every society in the world orphans having no one to defend them have no rights.  From Ancient Egypt and Babylonia thrugh the derivative Jewish Bible to the present, cutting across all racial and national lines orphans were and are cheated, robbed and denied.  In Dewey’s eyes the Sukamotos were part of the oppressor class not colored or Japanese.  Other Whites ignorant of history, his own history and himself could only understand his hatred of the Sukamotos as racial prejudice.

     The Sukamotos in their turn lost all keenness of pleasure in persecuting Dewey.  If his ‘own people’ didn’t want him he merely had a mercenary value to them.

     As to what Dewey had said, Jorge, and definitely Ben, lacked the background to judge.  Since the Atomic scientists had German sounding names like Oppenheimer and Teller, they assumed they were German.  America had funded the Bomb, therefore it was American.  They could only assume that Trueman was slandering the Jews.

     ‘Have you ever heard such nonsense?’  Ben said.  ‘Of course it was racial, they would never have dropped IT on the Germans.’

     ‘Yes.  We were told that he was a bigot.  What we just heard proves it without a doubt.  He won’t get far.  He can’t make it in an empty building with construction going on around him.  If he does we’ll get him another way.’

     Jorge sought ways to humiliate his White tenants.  Sometimes the means came to him.  He allowed those things to happen reveling in the complaints of his White tenants or, Slaves, as he jokingly referred to them.  When the Center had opened, bums came in from the cold to stretch out on the benches in the Atrium that Jorge had placed about.  Dewey’s and others’ complaints fell on deaf ears as Jorge indulged his bigotry by allowing the bums to stay.

     Customer complaints eventually forced him to action as his Center did have to succeed to repay those more than generous loans.

     The situation that developed in the second floor toilet thus afforded him great pleasure.  Even though Pilgrims Center was billed as a family center Jorge did not respond to complaints.  Mothers unwittingly sent their seven and eight year old sons to use the facility.

page 72

IV.

Why am I stumbling down the highway

When I shoud be rolling cross the skyways

On my

Cosmic Wheels?

–Donovan

 

     As a TV personality Dewey had good reason to avoid public restrooms.  By dint of careful planning he was fairly successful.  He hadn’t used the second floor toilet since the problem there had developed.  But now he had to use what was becoming laughingly referred to as ‘homo heaven.’

     He felt the urge when the hands of the clock read twelve-thirty.  The height of the lunch hour.  He pushed the door open to see one of the most astounding sights he had ever seen.  A fellow was carefully washing out one of the wash basins.  He then opened a package  of dry noodle soup, dumped the contents into the sink, ran hot water over the noodles, pulled a spoon out of his sock and began to eat out of the sink.  Dewey stood transfixed watching in amazement as the stench of the toilet assailed his nostrils.  He recovered himself to find the walls lined with hopeful, expectant faces.

     He wasn’t aware that the toilet had become a homosexual clubroom.  Feeney McReady, immediately on his left, wearing a green plaid jacket with very wide lapels and rust colored elbow patches that extended to the cuff, green and white checkered pants, a tan check shirt and a rust colored plaid tie, volunteered an explanation of the soup eater:  ‘That’s Soupy Feensteen.’  He said approvingly.  ‘He’s the founder of Jewish Queers Against Fascism.  He has his lunch here every day.’

page 73.

     Feensteen interrupted his feeding, straightening up to his full skinny height of five-six to beam a greeting at Dewey expecting some gesture of approval in return.  Dewey, offended, looked away offending Soupy who immediately condemned him as an anti-Semite.

     Not only was Dewey a TV personality but when it became apparent to the Old Boy Network he wouldn’t go bust in Portland they began to take him seriously.  They began an investigation of his past.  It was a singularly clear record except for one peculiar report, albeit a devastating report.  In his senior year in high school Dewey had chanced upon a group of acquaintances who were leaning against a low wall receiving oral sex from another classmate.  Dewey had been told to get in line but he refused.  He was warned that there would be consequences if he refused but he still did.

     The group in their guilt and shame devised a way to reverse the circumstances as people will do.  They arranged a situation at a roller skating rink in which over fifty ‘witnesses’ claimed to have seen Trueman perforning oral sex on a line of boys.

     The Old Boys were so elated by the discovery that even without corroboration of subsequent activity they spread the story as true.  Trueman was asked mysterious questions about how he like roller skating.  As he had never heard the latter half of the story he was mystified by the questions.

page 74.

     Some the homos in the toilet knew the story.  They thus thought Trueman was pretending by not dropping his mask and resented it deeply.

     When Dewey had gone on TV he had made a fatal error.  His method of dealing with his prominence was to assume that if he didn’t act as though he were on TV, not put on airs, that people would treat him in a normal manner.  This simply could not be.  Having made the move it was incumbent on him to adopt a suitable public persona because, like it or not, he was having an effect on viewers who remained anonymous to him.  Nevertheless he acted as though he were unknown.

     An electric thrill went through the homos when he walked in.  He was a hero to them.  Feeney, who was not quite such a beat up hommie as the rest,sacrificed a certain amount of pride hanging around the toilet.  He did it because he was hopelessly in love with the TV idea of Dewey Trueman.  He prayed that Dewey would come in and notice him.  The things we do for love.

     The homos wanted to meet him on their own turf; they wanted to stand by his fire in the toilet.  Who knew, some thought, that he might be one too.  Feeney hoped to impress Dewey with his turnout.

Feeney had the hightest hopes if Dewey would only recognize him.  For the great seer of the homos, Sal Mineo, had said that if you didn’t talk like Marilyn Monroe or wear a dress anyone was possible.

page 75.

     Feeney had his fingers crossed but Dewey paid him only the most cursory attention concealing a smile at his attire.

     Dewey’s attention was next drawn to Vic Laszlo, who was wearing a little house dress that came to mid-thigh.  Laszlo was probably not sane.  His reaction to his childhood abuse was extreme.  He had been totally emasculated, his pride was gone.  Still he tried to justify his house dress.  As Laszlo explained it: You’ll never know freedom until you’ve put on the dress.  Further mental derangement had been caused by the excessive use of cocaine, other dangerouos drugs and alcohol.  The telltale scab hung from his nose as he sniffed uncontrollably.

     Barry Manson standing next to him had his hand up Vicky’s dress holding the cheek of his ass under his panties.  That’s right.  Panties.  Speaking to no one in particular Laszlo intoned:  ‘No one’s ever known freedom till he’s taken the dress.’  Manson smiled approvingly hitching his pants up.  Dewey looked down and away wishing he were somewhere else.

     As Dewey turned the corner of the divider to seek a urinal he spotted Nello Nitti dressed as Marlon Brando in the Wild Ones.  Nitti was flanked by Ben Hale and Chancy Flegenheimer who all grunted deprecatingly at Trueman making contemptuous faces.  They were rebelling at anything society had.

     Back by the stalls Ace Onested, Lou Williams and Dick Bundy stood waiting for the noon time action.  As Dewey stepped up to the urinal a stock broker by the name of Rey Martine raced past him pointing authoritatively at Lou Williams.  They stepped into a stall together.

page 76.

     At that time little Jimmy Grosza took up a position next to Dewey.  Lou Williams in the stall was trying to get into position for Rey Martine.  He was making a racket as he climbed upon the toilet seat pushing Martine repeatedly against the door.  The two cursed each other repeatedly to cover their shame.

     ‘What are they doing in there?’  Eight year old Jimmy Grosza asked looking up trustingly at Dewey.

     ‘Just do what you have to do and get out of here.’  Dewey replied in disgust.  ‘Don’t even bother to wash your hands.’

     As luck would have it Dewey stood there dry, waiting.  ‘Damn it.’  He said to himself.

     Nello Nitti eyed him, bobbing his head and curling his lip in that soft tough guy Brando fashion with his jeans rolled up in ridiculous four inch cuffs.  Can’t Bust ‘Ems instead of Levis.

     ‘Hey! Come On!’ I can’t reach the toilet paper.’  Williams whined from the stall.

    Dewey picked up a copy of the Daily Assassin lying folded on top of the urinal and threw it over the top of the stall.

     ‘Here. Use this.’  He muttered under his breath.  ‘That’s about all it’s good for.’

     As he turned back he noticed that Laszlo had postioned himself so that he could study Dewey’s penis.  Laszlo worked his mouth convulsively as he stared while Manson squeezed his cheek in rhythm.  Dewey groaned audibly activating Nitti.  Nitti abandoned his lounging position in the corner, standing erect.  A cigarette separated his index and middle fingers at the bottom knuckle of his clenched fist as he stood legs apart in his best Brando tough guy fashion.  His boots were too new, they’d never seen a kick stand.

page 77.

     ‘You know what I’d like to do to him?’ He sneered at Hale and Flegenheimer, speaking as though Dewey weren’t there.  He brought the finger of his right hand to a point working them into an imaginary rectum then he balled his fist and holding his arm at the elbow he worked his forearm and fist up and down several times.  Sneering broadly around the toilet he leaned back into corner waiting for Dewey’s reaction

     Dewey knew what the gesture meant.  He’d had it explained lovingly to by Trashman, a dedicated practitioner.  Dewey didn’t know what it had to do with ‘sexual preference’ but it was called, let me be coy, fist fornication.  The hand, fist and forearm were actually pushed a foot or more up the rectum.

     This was what the Daily Assassin was endorsing: base injured psychological reaction.  A defective gene?  In religious terms the homos were failed human beings unable to rise from the mire.  Certainly the religious groups opposed to the legitimization of homosexual behavior as a desirable alternative life style had their failings, but in the theosophical lotus metaphor they were trying to better themselves, to aspire to more perfect behavior.  They were pointed in the right direction.

     In the lotus metaphor the roots of the lotus are sunk into the mire of materiality while the stem rises through the more spiritual murky water to blossom in the light of the spiritual sun above its material roots.  Thus man should try to escape his material origins to strive for the attainment of spiritual perfection.

page 78.

     Homosexuality rejects the notion preferring to wallow in the pleasure of subjecting their fellows to humiliation and degradation.  To be sure, that is what they have known, for in their childhood abuse they were humiliated and degraded by their seducers followed by rejection.  While homosexuals may not be aware of it the seduction entered their psyches requiring endless reenactments in the futile hope of resolving their psychological trauma in that manner.

     But absolution cannot be had in that manner.  One can only resolve the problem by deep contemplation and understanding.

     As Dewey zipped up Ray Martine burst from the stall throwing a twenty on the floor exclaining:  ‘Jesus, you goddamn queers disgust me.’  He raced out the door to escape his disgust with himself as he spat on the floor.

    ‘Musta had a bad day in the market.’  Williams said motioning to Ace Onested to pick up the twenty.  Onested, who wore pink slippers with large pompoms on the toes because it hurt his feet to walk, clanked over to pick up the bill.  He clanked because his pockets were filled with nickels, dimes and pennies.  He wanted the world to know that he was never broke, always had plenty of pocket money.

     Dewey followed Rey Martine out the door.  ‘You guys disgust me too.’  He said aloud to himself.  But Dewey didn’t leave a twenty behind.   His remark was interpreted as ‘homophobe’ rather than a comment about some very disgusting behavior by some very disgusting guys.

page 79.

     Like all social and religious interest groups the homos were very sensitive about ‘defamatory’ remarks but very adept at defamation.  A defamation from which as their status as underdogs there is little defense, or worse still, offense.  Following the lead of Soupy Feensteen of the Jewish Queers Against Fascism they all clicked their heels, raised their arms in the straight armed, open palmed Nazi salute shouting ‘Heil Hitler.’  This was the worst insult they could devise.  There was no opinion but their own; if your weren’t for them you were a Fascist.  Feensteen with a glare of self-righteous hatred brought his salute from the Nazi into the crooked arm, clenched fist Jewish salute silently mouthing, We’ll get you.

     Ben Hale separated himself from Flegenheimer and Nitti following Dewey out.  Trueman had a lead and walked fast so that Hale had to run in short, quick, tripping steps to catch up to him just as Dewey passed through the indoor dining plaza just before his door.

     Hale was a soft pudgy, very effeminate five-eight.  He tripped up behind Dewey and slapped him on the shoulder:  ‘You better watch  your mouth, Mither.’  He lisped.

     Dewey had had enough.  He had endured too much.  He turned in a quiet rage with closed fists.  Hale danced backward out of reach shaking his finger at Dewey.  Self-defense in his mind was a crime.  To oppose the wishes of homos was a crime; any chastisement was to be accepted as just retribution.

page 80.

     Three guys got up from a table advancing on Dewey.  ‘Hey, watch it bud, we don’t want no homophobia stuff going on around here.  This is a democracy and America means freedom.’

     Dewey put his fists down, pointing at Hale and speaking to the three.  ‘Well, your faggot just assaulted me, my men, and that’s a crime.  Don’t ever touch me again faggot, or you’ll learn what democracy and freedom mean to me.’  He said in anger.

     Hale sucked in his breath in mock astonishment:  ‘Did you hear him call me faggot?  Did you hear him call me faggot?  He’s a homophobe alright.  Well he doesn’t have to worry about me coming on to him.  He’s too ugly.’  Hale giggled out a version of the old Oscar Wilde saw.

     God, how can Sukamoto let this go on Dewey groaned to himself in the agony of having to endure such degradation in the name of someone else’s perverted notion of ‘democracy, freedom and justice.’  In fact, Jorge Sukamoto was enjoying it very much.  He saw White boys making fools of each other.  He was actively encouraging it in the name of ‘tolerance.’  The humiliation he observed nearly matched the humiliation he felt from being Japanese in what he saw as White America.

     So, Trashman was even happier at the New Criterion where he could duck into the toilet between servings of food to feed his lust.  For truly, as Isaiah predicted, He ate and was never satisfied.

     Attorney was fired from the New Criterion for theft.  But while there he met Linda Delmurkwasser who gathered there with her friends regularly.  The Digiorgio sisters who owned the shop were not lesbians proper, but libertines; they were game for anything, anytime, anywhere, anyplace with anybody.  They swung in every possible direction.

page 81.

     Because he had taken the money Trashman didn’t hold his firing against Trueman.  He had taken the cash partly from desire and partly to see how far he could push Trueman.  His seduction, as with most homos, had not been entered on a conscious level, nor even, properly speaking on the subconscious level but in a level of unaware understanding.  He, and they, had been given a very sneaky surreptitious first strike.  He, and they, had been seduced at a young age when they had no, or very few, defenses.  The good heartedness of their love offering had been betrayed and rejected when their ‘lovers’ cast them off with great derogation.  This attitude entered their minds as normal behavior.  Thus a surreptitious first blow coupled with derogation and humiliation became their standard of correct conduct.  But as Trashman and the homos were totally unaware of the basis of their homosexuality they denied the impetus claiming that they had always felt like they were girls.

     Thus in his confrontations with Trueman Trashman as the aggressor had set conditions so that win or lose the first blow would always insure the upper hand.  Psychologically and practically two wrongs do not make a right but a third does, at least in one person’s mind.

     In his subterranean way he was conducting a manhood test in the hopes of reversing his old defeat as an eight year old.  If he got away with the offense he had a double win and doubly proved his manhood against the ‘hetero’ who had injured him.  If he lost he still had the five hundred dollars and had put Trueman through the wringer.  In his eyes he was still the better man.  His ‘seducer’ was the loser.  It was queer but an integral part of the homosexual psychology.  His frustration was almost ‘genetic.’

page 82.

     The firing aside, what preyed most on Attorney Trashman’s mind were what he considered his defeats over the gauze pants and the Master-Slave T-shirt manhood tests.  He had no hope of recapturing his manhood in endless tests.  Each loss exacerbated his frustration.  He then engineered yet further tests against which by their surreptitious nature there could be no defense in the hope that he could rectify his blunted manhood by winning.  But by the very underhanded nature of the tests the wins could never be satisfying.  He was condemned to chew and chew and never swallow.

     Attorney’s theft had been both revenge and yet another additional unsatisfying manhood test.  While he had kept the five hundred dollars he had been fired.  In a further effort to reverse the tables Attorney told eveyone that the reason he had been fired was because he had refused to take the polygraph.  When the polygraph became illegal Delmurkwasser who was seeking ‘revenge’ because Trueman hadn’t cooperated with the lesbians over the covers began to see how she could cast Trueman in a criminal light.

     She discussed the story idea with her editor, Mingo Miybriy, who gave her the green light in the interests of ‘freedom’ and ‘equality’ and ‘democracy.’  The term ‘democracy’ was beginning to assume the meaning it now has of the Dictatorship Of The Marginals.  In other words the inmates were taking control of the asylum while the ‘good men’ abstaining from doing nothing cheered them on.  Or as Yeats put it:  the best lack all conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

page 83.

     Linda took Trashman’s statements at face value.  She already had her article written but she wanted to interview Trueman so she could make attributions to him and smear him ‘in his own words.’  She had called several times but Dewey declined to speak to her, let alone be interviewed.  Dewey had learned the hard way not to give out interviews.  In most cases the interview only gives the interviewer the right to attribute in one’s own voice without recourse.  Paley and Murrow’s hatchet job on McCarthy had a profound effect on journalism.  Trueman could smell the odor of the hatchet, or perhaps, a ballpeen hammer job.  Both Trashman and the lesbians sought to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

     Trueman had been raised to believe that both sides of a story must be presented by a paper.  Thus he felt secure that he had quashed the article.  But Mingo and Linda followed ‘Revolutionary justice.’  They believed Trueman guilty and that was enough Law for them.

     By publishing the hatchet job the Daily Assassin abdicated all title to respect by becoming a partisan rag.  Attorney Trashman was a vile criminal.  Linda Delmurkwasser was little better.  As for the Assassin…

     Yet a major metropolitan paper used its public unregulated power to represent the goals of these despicable people while trying to destroy a man who was productive, decent and honest.  What a perversion of values.

page 84.

     The Assassin would further castigate decent folk who formed a group to present heterosexual views.  They formed simply to protect their children from these sexual predators.  They too wanted freedom from harassment in this democracy of ours.  Rather than wallowing in the mire they were attempting to rise toward the light.  Order or chaos must rule, any condition in between is merely transitory.  As the medieval writer, the worldly Heinrich von dem Turlin said:  When two men play at dice both cannot win.  No, one life style or the other must prevail.

     The AIDS epidemic began shortly after these incidents.  The homosexuals were hit and hit hard by this seeming specific malady.  With the elation of the Candy Store Era gone and the grim reality of death before them the exuberantly sexual record covers that had caused Dewey’s problem disappeared over night replaced by sober geometric designs and sombre colors.  The lesbians’ problem was properly an internecine homosexual quarrel.  It had nothing to do with the heterosexual male.

     In the general sense the Daily Assassin promoted the forces of evil over the forces of ‘good.’  Materiality over spirituality.  The paper was no longer disinterested; it became an organ of homosexuality.  Heterosexuals would henceforth be defamed and reviled never being able to present their views.  The last had become the first.

page 85.

     The story had been a successful smear against which Trueman had no recourse.  The Assassin would not give him a retraction.  When he called he was given to low level employees, janitors and maintenance men who arrogantly told him:  ‘You had your chance to tell your side and refused it.’  When he tried to protest they merely hung up.  Dewey knew better than to show up at the offices where he could be arrested for ‘disturbing the peace.’  There is no court of appeals with homosexual justice.

     Trueman’s attorney, Pig Bowser, a great slab faced lawyer who earned his nickname in high school football because he filled a space in the line as big as a prize pig, refused to file a suit on his behalf so that the Assassin had no fear of retaliation.  The Old Boy Network to which Bowser was beholden ensured that the paper was immune to law suits.

     This mass of experience was but ill-digested and half understood by Trueman.  It filled his mind with a strong sense of injustice which he could not articulate.  As he grasped not so much for words but concepts to frame a reply to Harcourt, Owney Madnum greeted Brace over Trueman’s shoulder.

page 86.

     ‘Hey, Big B.’

     ‘Hi there, Owney.  How goes it?’

      Owney ignored Dewey, pretending he wasn’t there.  Harcourt was a second generation, Madmun a third generation Oregonian.  Owney’s family had the Oregon Pacific Press Co., which was a very large printing company in town.  Owney occupied a sinecure in upper management.  He was enabled to live in fair style.  His swimming pool would end up costing as much as his house.

     Native Oregonians despised all immigrants.  They viewed themselves as a sort of Israelite, a chosen people living in the only spot on earth worth inhabiting.  But the accomplishments of their neighbors to the North and South which far exceeded their own left them with a terrible inferiority complex.  They compensated by belittling California and Texas in particular.  In general they believed all others spoke with an accent.  The whole South thus came under ridicule even though Eastern Oregonians spoke with a pronounced Western drawl and pockets of people such as in Lebanon had a real hillbilly accent.  In a word, they were bigots.

page 87.

     They saw themselves as innocents in a world of depravity.  Their vanity led them to believe that Oregon would be crime free but for immigrants from California and Illinois.  Dewey would have been contemptible as an immigrant alone.  He was not ‘Oregonized’ in the slang of the times, but as the owner of a successful business he was exploiting Oregonians.  He was treated somewhat as a Martian invader.

     As he owned a record store, that meant to Owney as well as Harcourt that he was selling drugs in a big way, else how could a record store owner afford to live in the neighborhood?

     Now, the drug issue was a complicated one.  Brace Harcourt’s use of drugs was considered medicine.  Owney also used prescription drugs on a regular basis.  He snorted cocaine.  His differentiation was that he thought that Trueman supplied addicts who couldn’t afford the stuff so they stole to support their habit.  Owney could afford his cocaine and therefore used drugs recreationally.  He could stop anytime he chose, while ‘addicts’ couldn’t.

     Trueman, as Owney believed, dealt with the underworld  while he acquired his dope from a lawyer friend downtown with connections.  The lawyer’s connection bought from the head of maintenance at Stein and Cohn’s Department Store.  Owney’s connection didn’t even talk to the maintenance chief as he placed his orders and had his stuff delivered to the office by a courier system that functioned more or less openly on the streets of downtown.  Thus, Owney imagined that he was ‘clean’ while the role he projected on Trueman was ‘dirty.’  Owney despised Trueman as both an immigrant and a drug dealer.  Owney held him beneath contempt.

page 88.

     Trueman had never met Owney but he now addressed his back:  ‘Uh, your contractor says you plan to build your pumphouse on my property.’

     Madmun went on talking to Harcourt as though Dewey hadn’t spoken.

     Dewey pushed Madmun’s shoulder with his open hand.

     ‘I said your contractor says you plan to build your pumphouse on my lot.’

     Ignoring the shove Madmun scanned the sky as if looking for the source of the voice.

     ‘You heard me.  Are you?’

     Owney was in perturbation.  He didn’t want to acknowledge Trueman but he was compelled to answer such a question.  The shove had given him notice that he had better.  Looking across the street over Harcourt’s shoulder and speaking into the air as though to himself, he said firmly so as to avoid contradiction, ‘Yes, I am.’

     Dewey was incredulous.  ‘You are?  What do you mean, you are?’

     Madmun made him repeat the question, then still looking away he replied:  ‘Hell, yes.  It’s only about eighteen inches and you’re not using it for anything.’

     Dewey was familiar with insolent effrontery but the bland usurpation of another’s property passed all understanding.

page 89.

     ‘Look…’ Dewey didn’t use Madmun’s name because he didn’t know it.  ‘…your trucks are already passing over my property without my permission…’

     ‘They aren’t hurting anything.’  Madmun interrupted.

     ‘…but don’t build your pumphouse on my property.  Whether I’m using it or not, it’s mine, don’t build on it.’

     Owney turned toward Dewey looking over his right shoulder and head pretending not to see him while he had him in the periphery of his vision.  He gave no answer one way or another when Harcourt came to his assistance by saying:  ‘Well, see you later Owney, I’ve got to go now.’  Breaking up the discussion.

     As said, Owney was incapable of intellection.  He did not know right from wrong; he only knew that for his plans to work he needed eighteen inches of Trueman’s property, although as an immigrant he thought that Trueman had no rights.  He would have attempted the usurpation of the space regardless of who his neighbor had been.  He was simply incapable of social responsibility.  After his pool was built he poisoned the roots of a fine old maple on Harcourt’s property because the prevailing Southwest wind blew its autumn leaves into his pool.

page 90.

    V.

I’m going away, yes today,

Behind the wheel of a stolen Chevrolet.

I’m going to get a little high

And see if I can hotwire reality.

-Jackson Browne

 

     Owney leaned out over the mirror on his coffee table to watch himself as he scooped cocaine from the little etched crystal bowl with his twenty-four carat razor blade.  As he fined the crystals out with the blade, arranging them in two lines, his gaze came back to him, not troubled, for Owney didn’t have the intelligence to be troubled, but slightly befuddled.

     The pool expense was running up.  Owney had envisioned the completed pool, not the steps leading up  to it.  He had made no provision for the excavated dirt.  His contractor now informed him that transport and disposal would cost him several thousand additional dollars.  His house was less than six feet from the property line but his feeble intellect imagined that the dirt could be backed against his foundation.

     Owney’s wife, Toni, sat across the room listening to him.  She put a little pile of cocaine on her figer as she was at that age where peering into her reflection showed little lines that she wished weren’t there.  She sniffed the little pile into her right nostril, relieving the pressure on her left nostril as she did so.  As her eyes refocused she said:  ‘Well, Owney, I don’t think there is room beside the house for all that dirt.’

page 91.

     Owney, who had taken one of the rolled up hundred dollar bills from a little smooth ball shaped crystal vase as a tube to snort up the two little lines, having finished the right, pulled the hundred dollar tube from his left nostril.

     Toni’s words rattled from one side of his brain to the other as he tried to organize them into a coherent meaning.  Sitting back, he finally grasped the meaning through his exhilaration:  ‘Well, we can dump it on Trueman’s lot.  He’s got a lot of room he’s not using for anything.  Use it or lose it; that’s what I always say.’

     ‘He’s already told you he doesn’t want you to use his land for the pumphouse, Owney, don’t you think he’ll object to having his lot covered with your dirt?’

     ‘We need to build the pumphouse the way it is.  How’s he going to tell.  Besides once we get it up it’ll be too late.  It’ll be legal.  If we dump the dirt on his lot, same thing.  What’s he going to do about it, punch me out?  Not likely, I’ve been in Viet Nam.  And if he does, I’ll have his faggot ass thrown in jail.  We knew how to deal with his kind in Nam.’  Owney said making a pistol of his right hand.

     ‘I don’t think he’ll punch you out either, Owney, but he might file a law suit.  You’d be clearly in the wrong and have the extra expense of moving it again.’

     ‘Why?’

     ‘Why, what?’  Toni asked, startled.

page 92.

     ‘Why would I clearly be in the wrong?  Once it’s done it’s legal.’

     Toni explained to Owney that the pumphouse should be set back six feet but if they got it built without Trueman objecting the law wouldn’t require them to tear it down.  Owney extended to notion to mean that, if built on Trueman’s property the law couldn’t require him to tear tear it down; from there he extended the principle to mean that anything done could be gotten away with.  He went back to snort the another line.

     ‘Well, Owney, the law looks at things in a funny way.  You know, as a legal secretary I see these things happen a lot.  The law isn’t fair, they just will rule against you.’

     Really?  Boy, that’s rotten.  I know a lot of people too.  Well, I’ll ask him.  He probably wants to level his lot.’

     So, with what passed for close reasoning in Madmun’s mind he approached Trueman who was standing in his backyard with his German Shepherd, Savage, waiting for the big dog to do the natural thing.  His lot dropped thirty feet from Camelot to Cambenic.  The sharp drop from Camelot leveled into a small plateau.  this fell away sharply to Cambenic.  Owney dashed across the lot and scrambled up the drop off.

     Savage, sensing Madmun’s innate hostility lunged forward with the serious sounding growl of the Shepherd descending into a deep throated aggressive bark.

     ‘Whoa.  Down, Savage, down.  Come here, my good dog.  Sit, mighty fella.’

     Savage sat leaning against Trueman’s right leg, tense and quivering, lip curled back.

page 93.

     As an opening card Madmun threw in:  ‘If that dog bites me, Trueman, I’m going to shoot him.’

     ‘Poison’s more your style, buddy.  He’s defending his property.  You shoot him and I’ll shoot you.  Now get off my property.  Furthermore keep those trucks off my property from now on.’

     Madmun remembered what he had come for.  He followed up his opening with this non-sequitur:  ‘You’re a pretty good guy Trueman.  Listen, I’ve got a deal for you.  Won’t cost you a thing.  You know, my wife and I look out at your lot from our window there and see how it falls away here where I had to scramble up.  Damn near fell too, I might of had to sue you.  We got all this dirt they have to remove from our lot.  I’ll tell them just to come over and dump it here.  Fill this in for you, make it look pretty good.  I won’t charge you for trucking it over.  It’s free.  Free’s a pretty good price.’

     Dewey looked at him dumbfounded, while Owney apprehensively eyed Savage who shifted restlessly on his hindquarters.  Dewey had a quick mind, he was not only capable of intellection he had a remarkably analytic mind.  In the first place he almost emitted a scornful laugh at Madmun’s stupidity.   The amount of dirt coming off Madmun’s lot would more than fill Trueman’s.  Heaped around the trees, they would all die.  The peaks and valleys of the heaps would make it impossible for the equipment to cross Trueman’s lot.  Besides Madmun would never adhere to any agreement.  Trueman was already resentful of all the liberties Owney was taking.  Already an outlaw with no civil rights his only recourse with Madmun would be to file a lawsuit that might be loaded against him.  He knew that if he did a new load of opprobrium would be dumped on his head.  His reputation as a ‘rotten guy’ would be increased.

     ‘People would think you were a pretty good guy..’  Owney began interpreting Trueman’s delay in answering shrewdly. 

     ‘Oh yeah?’  Trueman interrupted, transmitting his anger to Savage who shifted aggressively increasing the intensity of his growl.  ‘Either that or they’d think I was your fool.  No buddyjack, I don’t want your dirt on my land.’

     Madmun was incredulous.  ‘Don’t be a bigger fool than you need to be Trueman.  I’m giving you a golden opportunity here.  This much dirt would cost you hundreds maybe thousands of dollars.’

     Savage responded to Owney’s tone by straining against the leash, while his growl increased in intensity as his fangs drew apart.

     ‘I’m going to give Savage a golden opportunity if you don’t get off my land now, jerk.  We’ll see if you can even handle a gun with what you’ve got left for a hand.’

     ‘God, you’re a prick Trueman.  I can see why people say the things about you that they do.  Goddam, what a asshole.’

     Owney Madmun retreated.  He still wanted to just dump the dirt on Trueman’s lot but Toni dissuaded him.   Still, rather than pay to have the dirt hauled, Owney instructed the workers to shovel the dirt against his foundation.  Then, not so much because he thought Trueman was that stupid but because he thought himself that clever, he ordered the workemen to feather the dirt gradually out over Trueman’s lot.  Dewey noticed.  He spoke to the workers forbidding them to come on his lot; they spoke to Madmun who was then forced to the expense of hauling it away.  He blamed Trueman for the additional expense.

page 95.

     The excavation completed and, in the fact of Trueman’s refusal to permit him to use his lot for access, Owney had no choice but to have the concrete poured from above on Camelot.

     The concrete work done they began to build his pumphouse.  He built according to his original specification on Dewey’s lot.  In addition, to enlarge his patio he extended a terrace to within a few inches of Trueman’s house.  The house was set back ten teet from the property line.

     Trueman couldn’t believe Madmun’s effrontery.  He knew his only recourse would be the law.  He trembled inwardly at the thought.  In his whole career in Oregon he had fought desperately to steer clear of the courts.  His enemies had fought just as hard to get him involved legally.  As an outlaw Trueman was routinely denied his civil rights.  He knew tht he would be denied and possibly in all circumstances.  He knew that his opponents had no sense of shame or pride.  Even in a clear cut case such as this he thought the law would be perverted to his injury.  Nor were his fears unjustified.

      He dreaded to approach Owney.  His rage and sense of injury, not to mention insult, through injustice now dominated his mind.  His sense of defenselessness gave a snarling whine to his justified indignation.  Owney, on his part, believed he could tough it out, that nothing would come of Trueman’s indignation.

page 96.

     As a native Oregonian he knew that he had the power to slander Trueman so that not only would no one talk to him, which was his status already, but so that he would find it impossible to even contract services let alone have the work done honestly, correctly and economically.  To ensure that Dewey knew, he had anonymous figures tell Dewey where he stood.  In the meantime he refused to answer the door and hung up the phone without a comment.

     Dewey had taken a lot of abuse over the years without complaining, knowing that complaint would only lead him into a morass from which he could never extricate himself.  But this was such a gross violation of his rights, such a tremendous indignity that he could not let it pass unchallenged no matter what the consequences.  He left a note advising Owney to respond or else.  Toni advised Owney to respond as she, not understanding the pervasiveness and depth of the animosity against Trueman, knew that in court Owney must surely lose.

     Trueman’s note had advised Madmun that he would return at six the following evening for an answer.  Madmun chose to tough it out.  He thought he held all the aces.  The social consequences of challenging him would be too much for Trueman, as his crowd advised him.  As his crowd said, meaning Trueman, when you know you’re going to be raped just lay back and enjoy it.  Owney thought that when push came to shove Trueman would buckle.

     Dewey rang Owney’s bell at six.  Owney’s voice came through the door:  ‘Who is it?’

page 97.

     ‘Your neighbor, Dewey Trueman.’

     ‘What do you want.’

     Dewey fought to control his rage at this additional insult.  His voice always high under stress, became a piercing shrill soprano.

     ‘Open your door so I can talk to you.’ 

     ‘No.’  Owney said, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter.  ‘If you’ve got something to say, say it through the door.’

     Dewey took several seconds, close to a minute, to seek control of himself before he could answer, then he didn’t say what he intended to say.  Instead he strangled out the word:  ‘Get your pumphouse off my property and move that terrace back.’

     ‘What?’  Said Owney, trying to enrage Trueman to the point where he could call the police.

     Overkill always calmed Trueman.  ‘You heard me.’  He said, his voice dropping back to Irish tenor level.

     ‘Don’t give me any of that Trueman.  You don’t have the right to abuse me just because you can’t hold your own.  This is a rough and tumble world; only the strong survive.  You’re not using the land, I am.  Use it or lose it, that’s what I always say.’

     Dewey saw the futility of trying to deal with such an idiot.  He simply turned and walked away.  He had no choice but to hazard the law.

     ‘So what’s your problem, Trueman?’  Owney shouted through the door.

     ‘So, what’s your problem?’  He repeated still receiving no answer.

     He pulled the door open to find the porch empty.

     ‘The nerve of that son-of-a-bitch.’  Madmun said to himself.  ‘I was talking to him.’

page 99.

VI.

Standing like a hobo in the morning rain,

Staring down the rusty tracks

For one more train.

God knows why a man should have to live this way,

But I ain’t got no choice

Unless I die today.

–Mickey Newbury

 

      ‘Quite frankly, Trueman, I don’t see that you’ve got a case.’  Pig Bowser said with studied matter -of-factness.

     ‘I don’t have a case:’  Dewey repeated blankly.  ‘Do you mean to say that in Oregon it’s legal to steal another man’s property?’

     ‘No, I don’t say that.’  Bowser said, idly pushing a couple drawers of his messy desk open and shut.  ‘But do you know this word- evidence?’

     ‘Yeah, I know what evidence is, Pig.’  Dewey said with repressed anger.  ‘The evidence is my lot.  I already told you that he built a terrace to within a foot of my house.  His pumphouse is partly on my property.  He admits it.  What better evidence do you need?’

     ‘Well, I’ve got your word for it, oh, and your word is good with me Trueman, unfortunately a court might not offer you the same indulgence.  Do you know this word?  Survey.’

     ‘So?  We can get a survey.

page 100.

     ‘Well yes, but we don’t have a survey, do we?’

     ‘Yeah, we do, Pig.  We’ve got the survey from when we bought the house four years ago.’

     ‘That’s old now.  It could be contested.’

     ‘What?  Contested? It’s nearly brand…I can have a new one taken now.’

     ‘Well, then, by all means do so, my boy, by all means do so.’  Bowser said with mocking exuberance, flinging his fat legs into the air.

     ‘Yeah.  OK.  I will.  So file the suit and I’ll get it done.’

     ‘Oh, no no, I’m not going to put myself out on limb for you.  First you give me the results of the survey, then, if everything is proper, I’ll file the suit.’

     ‘Sure, Pig.’

     ‘Well, I have a divorce case waiting.  So, it’s been fun, at least it has for me, but all good things must come to an end.’

     ‘Divorce case?  Boy, Pig, are you so desperated for business you still have to take cheap divorce cases?’

     Bowser was stung because regardless of what he told Dewey his level of competence did not rise above divorce cases.’

     ‘Oh, this a favor for an old friend.’  Bowser lied.

     ‘You aren’t named as a corespondent are you Pig?’  Trueman joked eyeing Pig’s more than protuberant belly.

     ‘Be serious.  Be serious.’  Bowser replied with false benignity.

page 101

     Dewey did not yet have that much experience with lawyers.  Under the best of conditions the legal relationship is difficult.  But the Old Boy Network was shameless.  In Trueman’s mind if you accepted a client’s money you served the client’s interests.  Bowser had been assigned to Trueman by the Old Boy Network to subvert his interests.  A lawyer of the meager talents of Bowsen had to do dirty deeds to earn the crumbs thrown his way as a reward.

     Trueman knew this.  But bad representation is still better than no representation.  His status was a major improvement from Eugene where he had been unable to obtain any legal representation at all.

     He had been in the same class as the Wobblies of the first quarter of the twentieth century.  That labor organization had been so thoroughly detested and hated that no lawyer in the entire Northwest would represent one of them.  They were denied their civil rights completely.  Like them Trueman was not only denied legal representation but he had been unable to obtain any essential service like accounting or even insurance.

     After his expansion to Portland he represented a large enought sum to admit of plundering.  Even then, at first, he had been unable to obtain adequate accounting.  He hated, by nature, to ask help of anyone but, indesperation he had turned to his Eugene landlore, Hymie Dickstein, who worked out of Portland.

     Dickstein was a successful property owner.  He had paper holding in Washington, Oregon and California in excess of a hundred million.  He was a power in the American Jewish Committee and the ADL.  All of the Jewish organizations had offices in his buildings.  He was also of the inner circle of the Old Boy Network but not a power among them.

page 102.

     Notwithstanding these attainments he was held in low esteem because of the grasping nature of his public deeds.  He had recently purchased the Adolf Kraus building.  This was an art deco building decorated with real gold leaf.  Gold can be beaten down to a thickness of one molecule so that the gold leaf on the Kraus Building represented very little gold.  Dickstein did not know this so that he had the building stripped of the leaf.  He ended up with a bill for several thousand dollars and an ounce of gold and the enmity of innumerable people.

     While deeds such as this held Dickstein up to ridicule he was nevertheless a power to be reckoned with.  Thus Trueman stepped squarely into the web by asking for his help.  Not that that really mattered; his movements were closely monitored anyway.  The Old Boy Network could and did see that he didn’t get good service.  This way the plunder could be kept in the club.

     Dickstein had suggested one of his tenants by the name of Dots Cerou.  Dots was a certified CPA. Dots was recklessly pundering Trueman offering little and charging much.

     There was no hope that Trueman would ever be able to obtain a bank loan but, as insurance, Dots turned out such erratic monthly statements that no lender would consider such a request.  Dots had Trueman paying twice the taxes he should have been.  Through Dots the Old Boy Network had Trueman referred to Pig Bowser on some business matters.

page 103.

     Trueman was aware of the situation at all times, but he had no alternative.  No one would touch him without permission.  Any who would were totally incompetent or crooked.  His choice was to be plundered or robbed.  He was the goose who layed the golden eggs.  He had to make the best of a bad situation.

     Dewey’s worst fears were now realized.  It was clear to him that Bowser would betray his interests as much as he could, nor would he be subtle about it, but blatant.  Dewey understood his disadvantage.  He knew he could be controlled by his lawyers better than he could control them.  The specter of the humiliation of defeat in court on what should have been an open and shut case would be too great a challenge to his manhood even if the odds against were a thousand to one.

     Fearful of this great humiliation he chose first to suffer a smaller one.  He dreaded to approach Madmun again.  When he did Madmun chose to believe that he was dealing from weakness.  He sneeringly dismissed Trueman through his door with a ‘See you in court.’

     Dewey had enough experience to know his total jeopardy.  Dewey was afraid of the results of a new survey.  He had worked for a surveyer in Eugene.  That surveyor, after accurately determining the lines ahd altered them to his client’s specifications.  Trueman already had the survey from the purchase of the house but Bowser had informed him that he wouldn’t accept it, he must go to the expense of a new one.

     In real desperation and fear he tried to get the original surveyor to date the survey with the current date or athenticate its accuracy.  that surveyor refused to guarantee his owrk.  He refused the task again because as he said:  ‘I don’t need your kind of trouble.’

page 104.

     Trueman showed the old survey to the new surveyor, Tom Robbins.  Robbins said:  ‘Hmm, well, they make a lot of mistakes on these things.  Can’t go by that.’

     Dewey laughed out loud.  He thought:  If you can’t trust one survey, why should you trust another?  But he wisely failed to voice his humor.

     Instead he said:  ‘They built the house based on this survey.  See that.  The house is ten feet from the property line all the way down.  Nothing has ever been changed or contested.’

     As a joke he was given a duplicate of the original survey and charged for a new one.  At least, he thought, I’m secure on the survey.

     Pig Bowser filed a suit on receipt of the survey.  A court date was set.

     Bowser plundered Trueman mercilessly.  He ran up immense bills at the rate of fifty dollars an hour.  Trueman was under the impression that whatever work was done by the firm was at that rate.  Bowser would call in one or two other attorneys to sit through two or three hour bull sessions that were unrelated to legal matters.  Each attorney charged fifty dollars an hour but Trueman was given a bill for only the gross amount.

     On the day of the trial Dewey showed up at Bowser’s office in a state of worried trepidation.  He had never been in court before.  He had expected Bowser to brief him on points of law and procedure.  Bowser had declined on the basis that that was coaching.  Coaching was illegal Bowser said and something so unethical he would never do it.  Trueman was admonished to never make the request again.

     Upon arrival he was greeted by Riley Gurgate who announced that he would represent him.  Riley Gurgate explained that the was fresh out of law school.  He admitted that he hadn’t been briefed on the case and had never been in court before.  With lawyerly gallows humor he laughingly joked that it was tough on clients for lawyers to get experience this way but that no better system had ever been discovered.

     Dewey was aghast at the insult.  He began to realize just how easy it was for a lawyer to sabotage a client’s interests.  He sought Bowser only to find that the office was empty and there was only ten minutes to get to court.  Trueman’s mind was in a turmoil on the walk up to Judge Eugene Springfield’s court.  Once there he was awarded with a phenomenal stroke of luck.  Owney Madmun heading his wife’s advice was too embarrassed to appear.

     Dewey had attained a great deal of notoriety because of his television ads.  But because he had been outlawed, excluded from clubs and civic organizations, no one actually knew him.  Everyone wanted to see him up close and live.  Because they had invented the most preposterous character for him they approached him with revulsion and contempt.

     The kindest thing that could be said of their attitude was that they believed Trueman to be an extroverted publicity hound.  Trueman was an original believer in targeting his audience.  He saw no sense in trying for the approval of people who would never buy his product.  He used a style of humor in his ads directed at this primary market.  The human was not accessible to everyone.  Actually his ads were parodies of the Oregon mentality.  Many thought the ads and himself outlandish, even ‘wacko.’  But as Trueman interpreted these people’s ability to judge anything accurately he dismissed their opinion.  Unfortunately for Dewey the only people who approached him were his detractors.  His admirers admired from a distance.

     Now they had the beast in the middle of the ring.  They meant to crack the whip to see how he could jump.  Judge Sprinfield ordered him to the stand.  Instead of finding an extroverted wildman Dewey showed himself to be shy to the point of crumbling.  He held his head down, fact turned to the wall.  He answered question is a thin, high, barely audible voice.

     The psychological battering he had taken as a child in the second grade had rendered him incapable of facing a crowd.  The subconscious memory of the hatred of his classmates gathered around him in a threatening half circle paralyzed his mind in all similar circumstances.  Not understanding why he couldn’t respond as he knew he should.  He sat on the witness stand cringing before his interlocutors.

     The contrast between this reality and their expectations brought gasps of surprise and a pleased laughter from the audience.  Springfield’s expresseion as he gazed condescendingly down on Trueman betrayed his feeling that he considered Dewey’s response unmanly.  It was.  It was the response of a seven year old boy before the force of condemnation of his classmates.  Dewey’s chagrin was further compounded by the fact that in both cases he was the injured party.

page 107.

     As Owney hadn’t showed Springfield had little choice but to award the decision to Dewey.  Trueman received a four thousand dollar award plus Madmun was required to remove his pumphouse, terrace and dirt.  Riley either forgot or neglected to ask for costs so Trueman was saddled with those.  Dewey never saw the four thousand which disappeared into thin air although Owned paid the amount.

     Trueman’s testimony had been given in such a listless manner that contradicted the aggressive impression of his TV ads that Owney’s lawyer took heart.

     He thought that he could manipulate Trueman and the proceedings in such a way that he could make it appear that Owney had Trueman’s approval for the use of the land.  He got together with Pig Bowser who agreed to let Gurgate sit silently while Truncate went about his business.

     To reopen the proceedings would need Trueman’s consent.  Bowser said he had his client under tight control, no problem.  He then went to work on Trueman at Trueman’s expense for a new trila on the basis that Owney had had conflicting obligations and couldn’t attend the first trial.  How to express the bitter chagrin in Trueman’s heart at such base betrayal.  But, this is how lawyers operate in Portland.

     ‘Where was Madmun’s lawyer, Pig?  He could have showed.’

     ‘I don’t know, Trueman.’  Bowser said reproachfully.  ‘Why do you ask things I can’t explain.  I only think it’s fair to give him a chance to tell his side.’

     ‘You think it’s fair?’

     ‘Yes, I do.’

     ‘Well, Pig, if you think it’s so fair I’ll tell you what.’

     Bowser’s eyes rolled slightly to the upper left in synch with his heads slight tilt as a faint smile of triumph was disguised on his lips.  He thought Dewey was going to go for it.

     ‘If you indemnify me 100%, absorb your fees and legal costs and any other expenses I might incur, I’ll do it.’

     ‘You have to be crazy, Trueman…’

    ‘If you think I’m crazy Bowser what do you think I think of you?’

     Well, why would I do what you ask?’  Bowser finished.

     ‘If you won’t, I won’t.  I tried to accommodate you though.’  Said Trueman shifting the onus back to Bowser.

     Neither Bowser, Truncate or Madmun would accept total defeat easily.  There had to be some way to recover from Trueman’s victory.  Madmun had removed the terrace and pumphouse immediately but he didn’t want to go to the enormous expense of removing the dirt.

     Bowser in collusion with Truncate and Madmun attempted to shame Trueman into abandoning that part of the award.  Trueman in the hopes of softening the defamation he knew was going on agreed to abandon the claim.

page 109.

     ‘I knew it.  I knew it didn’t really matter to you, that you were just causing trouble.’  Bowser said causing Trueman’s attempt at goodwill to turn to dust in his mouth.

     In the light of Trueman’s inexplicable behavior on the witness stand Owney was chagrined that he had taken Toni’s advice and lacked courage.  Keeping Trueman’s conduct in mind he and Tone set about to recover his loss and erase the humiliation.

     Several feet of Trueman’s property had been covered with dirt excavated from Owney’s lot.  Trueman by not enforcing the court decision had, if effect, given them permission to have dumped the dirt on his lot or so Owney and Toni reasoned.  Madmun had used some of the dirt to fill in the front of his own lot.  In so doing he had fanned out firther on Tureman’s lot there than alongside his house making a rounded mound.

     Tone interpreted the law to mean that if they landscaped this area they would have title to the improvements thereby filching title to the land from Trueman.  Owney would thereby redeem what his considered his humiliation in court.

     Owney knocked on Trueman’s door hoping he would step outside without his dog who he heard growling behind the door.

     ‘Hey, get on down here, I want to show you something.’  Owney commanded.  Previous to Trueman’s appearance in court Owney although he despised Trueman had nevertheless been in awe of his achievement.  He had felt inferior to Dewey.  Since Trueman’s appearance and the ‘real’ Dewey had appeared he feld his awe had demeaned himself.  He now assumed a dominant attitude not different from homosexual lust.  In fact, he a desire toshow his dominance by mounting Trueman.  This attitude came through loud and clear to Trueman who bared his teeth in response.  Trueman, in his turn, saw Madmun as soft, flabby, spoiled rich moron.

     Trueman turned to reenter his house.

     ‘Busy, don’t have time.’

     ‘Well, for Christ’s sake, man.  This is in your best interests.  Get on down here.’

     Dewey thought he better go see if Madmun was upto something else which it soundled like he was.

     ‘You get on down there Madmun.’  Trueman ordered harshly in his turn.  ‘I’ll be down in a few minutes.’

     Madmun too offence but as he was trying to rob Trueman he swallowed it, leaving.

     ‘Here, now, just imagine this.’  Madmun said throwing his cuffs with his best snake oil charm.  ‘This isn’t going to cost you a dime and you’re going to get all the benefits.’  Toni, who had joined her husband smiled approvingly.  ‘My wife and I will pay to landscape this whole section.’  He said, foolishly pointing to the dirt he had heaped up on Trueman’s lot.  ‘It will be just beautiful for you from your deck.’

     ‘Your name is Mad-man isn’t it?’  Dewey asked.

     ‘Madmun.  Yeah, why?’

     ‘No reason.’  Dewey said musingly.  ‘Don’t do it.’

     Owney opened his mouth to speak.

     ‘Don’t do it.’ 

page 111.

     ‘Yes. Now, you just listen to me…’  Owney began gesturing the beginning of an artistic curve.

     Dewey wasn’t going to listen.  He made a quick decision without shifting his feet.

    ‘I’m putting up a fence in a couple days.’  He said drily.

     That particular response wasn’t in Owney’s projected scenario.  His projection of ‘reality’ had been quite different.

     ‘A fence!  A fence!.’  He squealed as the statement broke through his thought pattern.  ‘Why that will ruin the neighborhood.  No one else has a fence.  Why you?

      ‘How many times a year do you touch down Madmun?’  Trueman asked in all sincerity.  ‘I have to go to court to get you off my property.  You’re trying some ploy to get my property now and you ask, why me?’

     ‘What are you talking about?  Go to court to get me off your property?  I haven’t been in any courtroom.’

     Dewey studied Owney cooly.

     ‘This guy is either trying to be a frustrator or insane.’  He thought.

     Actually Madmun was neither.  He jus so narrowly interpreted his self-interest as to have no idea of the effect on other people.  He didn’t have a clue.  It may be true that nature abhors a vacuum but somehow nature overlooked Owney’s mind.

     ‘The anwer is no Madmun.  I’ll be putting up the fence soon.  I’ve got to go now.’

     ‘You know, everybody is right about you.  You’re a real prick.’

     ‘If everybody does say that then you’re all talking about yourselfs.  You’re all talking about yourselves.’

 

     The next morning Angeline was reading the Daily Assassin.

     ‘Oh look Dewey.  Here’s another article about how prostitutes from Illinois and gangs from California come here to take advantage of the innocence of trusting Oregoniana who know nothing of such behavior and don’t have natural resistance.’

     Well, Darlin’ it’s just like they tell me.  It’s just the wear and tear of living.  If they can’t stand the heat stay out of the kitchen.’

Finis

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This story takes place in the mid 1970s in Portland, Oregon. About 100 pages.

The Swimming Hole

by

R.E. Prindle

 

…the only service to God is not to be evil.

–Hermes Trismegistus

Each man is his own absolute lawgiver, the dispenser of glory or doom to himself, the decreer of his life, his reward, his punishment.

–Idyll Of The White Lotus

Hey, Friend.  Wake up! I’m throwing rocks at your windowpane…

Scott McKenzie

 

     Owney Madmun looked across the table at his wife Toni.  ‘I’m going to put a swimming pool in the backyard.’  He said emphatically.  ‘How about that?’

     Owney spoke impetuously as he always did.  The notion had occurred to him just then as he looked at a picture of a pool in the Assassin and his mind was firmly made up.  It was as though the pool already existed.  In his mind it did, without the intervening steps of planning and execution.

page 2.

      ‘Just like in the paper here.  Solar panels and all.  Cutting edge of technology.  Save the ecology.’

     ‘Sounds terrific.’  Toni said, adding a touch of polish to the edge of her nail, third finger, right hand.  ‘Let’s get started.’

     Toni was Owney’s second marriage; he her third husband.  Owney was thirty-five; Toni twenty-eight.  She was one of those party girls who traded on their looks.  She was much faster than Owney, but she was considered so desirable that in the frenzy to win her third time favors Owney’s financial status had bested several of his fellows.  He had the means; Toni had the ways.

     She was not strikingly beautiful but she had one of those taut firm, fully packed, well formed bodies, without being overly shapely, that drives some men mad.  There was not any real affection between them.  Owney had gotten one of the most desirable women of his group while Toni had gotten an ample meal ticket.  Owney was a well-to-do nephew.  Financially he had been a good catch.  Toni, who had no desire at the time to lose a good thing, not having another one ready, deferred to his opinion by habit.

     And so Owney nodded over to her and set about to build his pool.  There were serious obstacles to the construction of the pool but Owney with his complete lack of intellection gave them no mind, which is just about how much he had to give.  His main problem he was told was that his lot was not the right configuration for an economic installation.

page 2.

     Owney’s house was on a hillside lot in Portland, Oregon.  He lived in a section called the ‘Cams.’  All the streets in the subdivision began with the syllable Cam after the developer’s son.  Cambenic descended from the hillside from the main road which was called Cam.   Camelot angled off to the right and down the hill to rejoin Cambenic which had descended and curved around.  Cambria crossed Cambenic just before it rejoined Cam.  Cambridge Court angled off Cambria.  Owney’s lot reached from the upper street, Camelot to the lower street, Cambenic, twenty-five feel below.  His house faced the lower street, Cambenic, while the backyard reached up to Camelot.  A sharp drop of fifteen feet graded up to his back porch.  The lot was inaccessible to the West from his neighbor Brace Harcourt’s lot.  To the East, Owney’s house sat less than six feet from the line with Dewey Trueman’s house.  Trueman’s house faced Camelot leaving a gap between the backs of the two houses just big enough to drive a truck through.

     The sharp drop of Owney’s backyard would have to be terraced.  Thus the dirt from the terracing and the excavation of the pool would have to be lifted up to Camelot Street.  The catch was the backhoe couldn’t be got down the incline and if down couldn’t be got back up without a crane.  Owney was told that the cost would be prohibitive.

     Owney thought it could be done cheaper.  The hoe and trucks would just fit between the back of his house and Trueman’s.  If the equipment was brought up Trueman’s backyard thousands of dollars could be saved.  The contractor agreed that the job could be done much more cheaply that way, but he wasn’t sure that Madmun’s neighbor would approve.  Owney told them to go ahead, he would take care of it.  Owney didn’t bother to consult Trueman because he didn’t think that anything he did was Trueman’s business.  Besides, he thought, let him see Trueman try to stop him.

page 3.

     Dewey Trueman awakened from a sound sleep as the grading equipment roared and lurched below his bedroom window onto Madmun’s lot.  Dressing, he looked out at Madmun’s presumption.  He was indignant that Madmun hadn’t consulted him.  While he sat brooding a knock came on his door.  He was greeted by Madmun’s contractor.

    ‘Listen, I’ve been in things like this before and I don’t like it.  I don’t want to get started and have to stop.’  He said, beginning in media res.

     ‘Who are you and what are you talking about?’  Dewey asked with just a trace of irritation.  It seemed of late that everyone Dewey talked to spoke in broken disconnected thoughts.  One incomprehensible non-sequitur followed another.

     ‘Who am I?’ said the contractor rearing back incredulously, as though everyone should know him.  ‘I’m Owney Madmun’s contractor.’  He said omitting his own name.  ‘Say, if you’re not interested I don’t have to tell you.  After all, this is for your own benefit.’

page 4.

     Dewey was in a certain amount of turmoil over the trucks plus he hadn’t had his coffee yet.  He remained patient in the face of such obtuseness.

     ‘All right, all right.  You’re the contractor who owns the trucks next door?  What is it?’  Dewey asked, thinking that he would ask for permission to cross his lot.  Dewey had never met Owney.  He didn’t even know his name.

     ‘Well, Owney’s going to build his pump house on your land.  I want you to know so you can do what you have to.  I don’t want trouble.’

     Dewey was dumbfounded.  He forget about the trucks.  ‘Oh, no.  Build on my lot?  I’ve never heard of such a thing.  You must be mistaken.’

     The contractor looked at Dewey indignant that Trueman found his information preposterous.  ‘Well, I’m telling you the plans call for him to build the pump house eighteen inches onto your property.  there, I’ve told you.’  He finished Oliver Hardy style.

     ‘Thank-you.’  Dewey replied, still dumbfounded.  ‘I’ll talk to him.’

     Dewey found it incredible that a man would usurp another’s land.  The next day he was standing on Camelot looking down at the lot line.  As he studied the layout of the pool it seemed clear that the pump house would definitely have to be right on the property line instead of set back six feet as the law required.  Dewey didn’t know that Madmun thought of the law as something to be disregarded or baffled.  The law was for other people;  Owney’s self interest was lawless.  ‘There are no rules.’  He would say reflecting a popular Oregon notion.

page 5.

     ‘Well, what do you think?’  Brace Harcourt said, spitting at Trueman’s feet.  Harcourt lived on the corner lot where Cambenic and Camelot divided.  He was sixty-nine, stood six-four, dyed his hair black but was trim and athletic looking.  He had a slight resemblance to Ronald Reagan which he cultivated.  He was just retiring from SSSAP, one the bigger advertising firms in Portland.  He was contemptuous of and hated Trueman although he knew him in only the most casual way.

     Trueman owned the biggest record store in the city, Chrystalship.  Dewey spent vast sums on advertising on radio and television all of which he handled himself.  Dewey spent more than most car agencies or any of the big retailers.  In the retail hierarchy, record stores were classed well below car dealers and retail chains.  Dewey was thought presumptuous if not insane.  In the envy he aroused it was definitely thought that he was too big for his britches.  Retail is as full of penis envy as any other industry.  Thus, Solly Valentine’s, a chain with a dozen huge general merchandise and grocery stores in Portland was shifting money from its newspaper advertising onto TV and radio so that the large firm would have a greater electronic presence than Dewey’s much smaller almost miniscule company.  In many ways, Dewey’s presence was a bonanza for the electronic media although they were too myopic to see it.

     Trueman wrote his own ads, doing the man on camera work.  Naturally Harcourt and the people of the other ad agencies despised and belittled Trueman’s work because they thought his account belonged by rights to them.

page 6.

     As Dewey owned a record store, Harcourt believed that Trueman was deep into drugs.  At that time it was universally believed that record stores were covers for drug operations.  In TV shows the addicts always went into record stores to buy drugs.  As on TV so in real life apparently.  In actuality one of the refrains in the music business was:  ‘Sex, drugs and Rock n’ Roll.’  But neither Dewey or his firm had anything to do with drugs.

     Harcourt’s son was something of a ne’er-do-well in his father’s eyes.  Harcourt suffered a great disappointment in his son Brice.  To explain his disappointment, withour incriminating his own rearing, he invented the story that Brice suffered from brain damage because someone had put drugs in his drink at a party.  Not being a clear thinker, but needing a scapegoat, he believed, not thought but sincerely convinced himself, that as Dewey was associated with records and therefore drugs, Dewey was responsible for Brice’s ‘brain damage.’

     That was a great leap, for Dewey had not even been in town when Brice suffered his alleged ‘brain damage’ but by the late seventies Americans no longer believed in logic or even validation of their notions.  If they thought it, it must be true.  In point of fact, Harcourt’s son considered himself an artist and lived what he considered to be the artist’s live.  So?

     Harcourt spat at Trueman’s feet every time he saw him.  Trueman had spoken to him about it previously.  Harcourt had been taking barbituates for twenty years ‘to calm his nerves’.  The drug had deteriorated his mentality so far that he was unconscious of spitting.  Since he was not conscious of doing it, he was even capable of denying it with the evidence before him.  Trueman had no choice but to think him the most brazen of liars.

page 7.

     Trueman pretended he hadn’t heard Harcourt distinctly.

     ‘What’s that Mr. Harcourt?’  He said with some irritation but politely in defference to the other’s age, but definitely, he thought, not his merit.  As he held Harcourt in some contempt he refused to call him by the nickname Harcourt preferred.  He liked to be called the Big B, or just B.  Dewey thought the guy was so insolent he should have been a waiter.

     ‘I said, what do you think?  Open up your eyes. boy.’ Brace said naming the wrong organ.

    ‘I see you’re as irascible as ever old buck.  I think it’s going to cost him lots of money with little return.  How many days a year can you use a pool in Portland?  Two?’

     ‘Oh, that.  I dont’ mean that.’  Harcourt replied, sneering down his nose at Trueman.

     ‘Well, Mr. Harcourt, you don’t really think I can read your mind, do you?’  Trueman asked.  ‘What then?’

     ‘I see your dirt is being spilled all over you.’

     Dewey was confused by the reference.  He thought Harcourt was referring to the excavation.

     ‘Uh, well, I’ll talk to him about it, Harcourt.’

     ‘Him?  You mean them.’

     ‘Them?  Them who, Harcourt?  What the hell are you talking about?’

page 8.

      ‘The paper.  The paper, boy.  They’re showing you up for the crook I always knew you were.’  Truculently spilled from Harcourt’s mouth.

     Dewey blew out his breath bringing his hand to the back of his to work out the riddle.

      ‘The paper?  Do you mean the Daily Assassin and that story a couple weeks ago?  What about it?’

     ‘Using lie detectors is against the law, boy.  Guilty, you’re guilty, just like I always thought so.’

     Dewey passed his hand from the back of his head across his face as the whole unpleasant two or three years of confrontation jumbled through his mind nearly undecipherable in its compressed psychic code.  He had only the most meager notion of how to intrepret the whirling maelstrom of events.

     The story Brace Harcourt referred to had been printed by the Assassin two weeks previously.  A year before the State legislature had passed a law forbidding the use of polygraphs by private agencies.  Trueman had employed an agency for employee testing prior to the law.  In an effort to live up to its name the Assassin was making an effort to assassinate his character.  The paper had printed the story about his use of polygraphs without making clear when.

     The Daily Assassin was now the sole paper in town.  It was the result of the combination of the Oregon Daily Hatchet and the Portland Daily Assassin.  the Hatchet was named in reference to George Washington, who, with his trusty hatchet in hand couldn’t tell a lie.

     The ownership, which was in New York, shied away from calling the combination paper the Daily Hatchet-Assassin, in which name there was a certain amount of ironic humor and truth.  They settled on the Oregon Daily Assassin which most accurately reflected the attitude or  Mingo Miybriy, its editor. 

page 9.

      Mingo believed it was her responsiblity to assassinate the character of anyone who failed to meet her standard of political correctness.  All was done in the spirit of the biblical promise to the Israelites:  I will bless them that bless thee and curse them that curse thee- or fail to bless thee.

     The article had been written by a lesbian to anathematize Trueman who had run afoul of the homosexual community.  Not only was the Assassin pro homosexual but their quarrel with Trueman had further ramifications.  Trueman was on the list of persons to be given the silent treatment because of the social unacceptability of his Hippie background and his association with the record business.

     Even more fundamental was his refusal to advertise in the paper.  Trueman had put all his advertising dollars into the electronic media which did a terrific job for him.  The Assassin was aware that Castle Records in San Francisco ran a double truck every Sunday in the Chronicle.  This represented a very nice piece of change.  They projected the same scenario for themselves and Chrystalship.

page 10.

     The Daily Assassin was now a monopoly.  In the best of circumstances they were arrogant, haughty and condescending.  In addition their obvious contempt for Trueman was so insulting that he coudn’t do business with them and maintain his self-respect.

     The electronic media were competetive, sympathetic to the product and more attentive to his needs.  Trueman had no need for the paper’s services so he treated them as contemptuously as they treated him.  They being the larger business found him merely presumptuous.  The management seethed in resentment.  They longed for his store to be replaced by Castle which was aggressively expanding across the country.  While it would be extreme to say that the paper could put him out of business it was in their power to assassinate his character.  Their story was slanderous with criminal intent.  It had obviously been successful.

     The story had its origins in events beginning three years earlier.  These years were as tumultuous as any in the tumultuous history of the United States.  Fostered by the immigrant past of America every ethnic group, social group or even viewpoint was operating with autonomous desires.  In varying degrees they attempted to operate as entities above the law of the land.  In other words they attempted to transfer the determination of justice from the many to the few.

     The attitude would become most clearly expressed with the anti-abortionists of the nineteen-eighties and nineties during which individuals took it upon themselves to assassinate doctors who performed abortions.  These people were still capable of claiming to be against capital punishment.  Their argument was the hoary one that ‘God’s’ law is higher than man’s law.

page 11.

     In the same manner lesbians and homosexuals began to twist society and law to meet their specific needs as opposed to general needs.  They declared themselves a minority that in some manner was being deprived of its rights.  Not a clear argument but it passed.  Following the Jewish model of the Anti-Defamation League of B’nai B’rith they began to intimidate publishers and broadcasters  who wrote or spoke unapprovingly of homosexuality.  They began the process of choking off objective study of homosexuality.

     Homosexuals are men.  There is no physical difference between homosexual and heterosexual men.  Homosexuals figure among shot-putters and football linemen.  They number powerful businessmen, judges and lawyers.  They are quite capable of taking care of themselves without special protective legislation.

     In the act of soliciting sexual favors from heterosexual men they are sometimes punched out.  But then a man who called a policeman because he had his ass grabbed would be thought ridiculous or unmanly.  The manly thing is to punch one’s assailants lights out.  A very large percentage of homos are masochists, which is a psychological corollary of violation, who desire a beating.  If it may be said that heterosexual men have an unreasoning hatred of homosexuals then the reverse is also true.  As the Bible says of Ishmael, his hand is raised against every man and every man’s against him.  To enfranchise one group of men over the other is to tilt the playing field.  If homosexuals can’t compete on a level field they should stay on the sidelines.

page 12.

     Contrary to these public declarations homosexuals are not discriminated against unless they adopt a weird persona, wear dresses or speak like Marilyn Monroe.  Most people are unconcerned about sexual orientation so that it is impossible for them to distinguish homosexuals.

     Homosexuals thus form a species of secret society.  They are, in fact, a brotherhood.  To be a brother in good standing is absolutely essential.  Thus one’s independence is destroyed; one must conform or face ruin as one can have no sex life having made oneself inaccessible to women.  Of course, there’s always sheep.  In the work place the heterosexual functions as an independent individual.  One or the other group must control the work place and establish its mores.  The homosexual brotherhood having solidarity must easily gain control of the workplace. 

     Even though forced to be covert, history is replete with homosexuals in every line of endeavor.  The arts are an especially favorable field for homosexuals.  Especially the record business.

     Homosexuals came out of the closet in 1969.  the open practice of homosexuality progressed rapidly to enter what is called the Candy Store Era of homosexualtity.  By the late seventies before AIDS choked it off the Candy Store Era was in full swing.  Being a ‘guy’ was openly indicated.

     During the sixties many record performers began to hint that they were homosexuals, or, at least bi-guys which as an intermediate step was considered more acceptable.  Such nonsense as:  ‘Why should I exclude one half the world from my bed?’ was prevalent.  Earrings began to appear on men.  The outre clothing fashions of the Hippies lent cover to garb not so discreetly feminine.  There was an effort made to make skirts acceptable for men.

page 13.

     By the late sixties artist’s began to discreetly acknowledge the truth.  By the mid-seventies it was openly proclaimed; by the late seventies proudly so.

     The unalterable fact of the matter is that homosexuality disgusts and revolts men who aren’t homosexual and, more importantly, those who refuse to acknowledge their own infirmity.

     As the seventies progressed the vitality which had characterized Rock n’ Roll began to fade away.  As it did homosexual entertainers came to the fore as heterosexual interest faded.  Groups began to simulate fellatio on stage.  This in turn drove heterosexual men away in disgust.  At the same time overtly homosexual Disco music began its rise driving Rock n’ Roll into further eclipse.  Thus the record market was decidedly tilted toward the homosexual influence.

     Homosexuality is a psychotic reaction to sexual abuse.  The victim is psychologically emasculated.  Hence homosexuality is expressed in gross pornographic imagery and practice.

     Because mankind never wishes to assume responsibility for its actions an objection may be raised to the notion of psychotic reaction.  Early in man’s development the belief was that the stars guided men’s actions.  When the astrological theory became untenable people wished to believe that their anti-social actions were caused by possession by evil spirits.  Demons, or the devil made them act against their inclinations.  Society even went so far as to empower people to exorcise the demons.

page 14.

     When science came to the fore after the Great Revolution, the idea that man himself was responsible for his actions became dominant.  The science of psychology developed the notion that man could alter his behavior by plumbing the depths of his psyche.

     This view caused an extreme reaction as people rejected the notion of personal responsibility.  Oddly enough science was called into play to nullify its own discovery.  Anti-social behavior was caused, some said, by brain tumors.  Failing brain tumors, then a chemical imbalance in the brain.

     Recently these theories have been thrown overboard in favor of genetics.  Genetics is a tough, imprecise field.  No one can actually prove that genes influence behavior; no one can actually disprove it at present.  To placate the skeptics believers claim that the defective A1 gene has to be activated by an objective event.  Once activated, of course, it can’t be deactivated.  Not even by chemicals that might restore the balance.  One accepts the theory on faith or not.

     The believers claim that psychotic behavior such as alcoholism, homosexuality and criminality is caused by the defective A1 gene.  Thus from the stars to the A1 gene man refuses to accept responsibility for the inability to control himself.

     Nevertheless homosexuality is expressed through a violent demeaning attitude toward sex.  This attitude began to dominate the record industry by 1976.  The attitude was perfected when the Disco rage took over  the industry, dominating it for several years.  Songs celebrated homosexuality.  Whole records celebrated it.  Homosexuals still couldn’t show it on the beach but they could do it on record covers.  The gay group, The Village People put out a twenty minute song entitled:  The YMCA which coyly celebrated the homosexual joys to be found there.  Oddly enough the Y never called for the record to be suppressed which they certainly had the right to do.  The Beegee’s recorded the double entendre: More Than A Woman To Me.  Sly and obscure enough to go unrecognized except by the initiated.

     The Headhunters were on the move.  Nowhere was the aggressive attitude more explicit than on the cover art.  Giorgio Moroder who, had been using the Black woman, Disco Donna Summer, as a cover for his projections, stepped into the open issuing records under his own name.  His ‘Knights In White Satin’ threw down the gauntlet for the straight males of the world.  The cover art featured Moroder fronting a bunch of ‘guys’ dressed in white satin lounging around a gleaming white toilet.  The toilet is the focal point of the homosexual ideology.

     During the Candy Store Era public baths became gathering places for homosexuals.  Essentially large toilets Portland had at least two of them.  Thus anytime night or day a lonely homo could joust with fellows in the toilet.

     The symbolism of ‘Knights In White Satin’ is clear.  In the Arthurian corpus Lancelot, the most formidable knight of his or any day, issues forth from under the lake dressed in white satin on a white charger with white accoutrements.  White is Gnostic symbolism for the color of purity and grace.  The Wonder Rabbis of eighteenth century Neo-Hasidism also wore white satin as chosen and leaders of the chosen.  Thus Moroder was saying that homosexuals were the best men preferred by God.  The Homosexual Revolution was on.

page 16.

     But, in point of fact, homosexuals are only the chosen losers.  When they were emasculated as children or during the course of their lives they became dominated.  They had been compelled to submit.  The humiliation of submission, forced submission, is too much for their psyches.  Hence they turn to a vicious brutal attempt to reverse their roles. Within the brotherhood ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ practice sado-masochistic rites.

     Among heteros, with whom they cannot compete they wage interminable warfare.  Unable to confront masculinity they lie, sneak and cheat hoping to gain the upper hand by subterfuge.  Since they cannot hope to win on their own merits they seek the State to give them a handicap in laws which suppress the superiority of heteros.  They seek a handicap that makes heteros submit and allows homosexual dominance.

     As emasculated men they can no longer act as whole men.  Thus they love the very idea of manhood which they have been denied.  They study men; watch them, bringing all the most admirable traits together in an impossible cartoon image of manhood.  Thus the Village People posed as ‘macho men.’  They adopted stage personae of the most virile men; but they were merely actors playing a role.

     While the knights of old sought dominance by charging across the greensward with their lances leveled to sink the point in another’s flesh so Moroder and his brotherhood charged across the toilet with a different lance leveled to sink it in their brother’s flesh.  Headhunters shoulder jousted down the street trying to prove their dominance of others by walking into them if they didn’t step aside.  Defective A1 genes or mental disturbance?

page 17.

     Cover designs frequently accentuated the sado-masochistic elements of this dominance-submission.  the fire down below expressed the sickness above.  Homo separate themselves into ‘boys’ and ‘girls.’  Male dominance over female submission in its most brutal form.  Thus a Disco Donna Summer was a surrogate for Disco Giorgio Moroder when homoseuxal songs refer to girls they mean submissive men.  Women on cover art are surrogates for men.  When they are meant to be women they stand with ardent longing around a male who ignoring them altogether has no use for them.  ‘Boys’ are more than a woman to him,

    By one of those twists of fate Pilgrim’s Center in which Trueman’s store was located was on Stark St.  The homosexual center of Portland was on a wedge of streets that began where Stark and Burnside met at Twelfth St. widening as it approached the river.  Most of the homo hangouts were in this wedge.  The Great Gotham Hotel anchored the wedge on the triangular block that began it.  The Gotham had been converted into a bath house of which the toilet was the community room.  God help the hetero who stumbled into the place to stay or eat at the restaurant.

page 18.

     Just up the street was The Mama Tried.  Across the street was the Darby Ram.  Both were homosexual restaurants and bars.  Above the Pilgrim Center between West and East Park was Daddy Cool’s on the corner.  An empty space, which was soon to be filled inervened.  next to that was the Black Bottom, a place owned by a little Black guy about five feet four who went by the name of Jimmy Jack Speedo.  Another hangout, the Bottom Half was up on Yamhill and East Park.

     The Pilgrim’s Center and Chrystalship were thus in the Homosexual center of the city.  Concomitant with the ‘coming out’ of the homosexuals was the coming out of lesbians.  Even if they couldn’t show it on the beach they could demonstrate anywhere.  Suddenly two girls would stop in the middle of Dewey’s store and begin tounging each other for long slobbery minutes.  The lesbians too were looking for a fight.  They needed some way to draw sympathy for their psychological infirmity.

     The femininst movement was at one of its historic peaks.  The women’s movement was sensitive about how women were portrayed in art.  The enemy to the homosexuals, the lesbians and the women’s movement was the hetorosexual male in lesbian minds.  While censoring references to themselves they felt free to voice the most bigoted sentiments about whole men or even balanced women.

     Thus, while the sado-masochistic cover art was perpetrated by homosexual interests, heterosexual men were blamed for it by the lesbians.

     Trueman, who really loved the record business, watched with dismay as the homosexual element with their pornographic approach to cover art came to dominate the industry.  He was already in an unhappy frame of mind when the storm burst directly over his head.  The lesbian sisterhood chose to make cover art a social issue.

page 19.

     They needed a vehicle to bring their plaint to the fore.  Both Trueman and Chrystalship loomed large in their minds.  Sex, drugs and records filled the void of their minds.  They identified Trueman with the ‘ruling class.’  They neither knew of his origins as an orphan, the least privileged of any caste, nor did they understand that he was an outlaw with no status with the privileged class.  When Trueman had told one of these beat up femmies of his origins he had been called a liar because, as she said, he couldn’t have built the business he had if he had come from an orphan’s background.

     His supposed prominence and the size and actual prominence of his store made him the natural target.  Dewey’s own attitude as the matter developed was more confrontational than diplomatic.  He gave what he had gotten in life.  Neither attitude would have mattered as the former would have exacerbated the situation  and the latter circumvented it.  The only possible solution with bigots is submission.  The situation was so far from the American ideals of his youth that he was incapable of putting things into a historical or social context.  His original conciliatory attitude soon developed into a confrontational one which set the tone of the dispute.

     The mere frustration of their wishes was enough to drive the lesbians to extreme measures.  They decided to begin gently with Dewey.  Over the course of a few weeks various lesbians stopped Dewey in the store to complain about certain record covers.  Dewey could, and genuinely tried, to sympathize with them.  He didn’t like the direction cover art was going either, but for different reasons.  When they insisted, he would give the reasonable counter that this was a world he never made; he wasn’t present at the creation and no one had asked his opinion since.

page 20

     They thought Dewey was part of the ‘white male power structure.’  In their minds he was indued with great powers.  Dewey was amazed that they thought he was capable of having the covers withdrawn.  Dewey tried to patient with them.  He explained that he, too, didn’t like a lot of the covers, not necessarily the ones they objected to.  He showed them the Giorgio Moroder cover which offended him greately but bothered them not at all.  He showed them several other homosexual and lesbian covers.  He showed them the selection of Olivia records.  The Olivia label was a lesbian label with lesbian lyrics and photos.  He tried to explain to them that America was a land of free speech which protected the right of all to express any point of view.  He tried to explain…

     But they were narrow and single minded in their zeal and bigotry.  They pointed out that he could refuse to sell records of which they disapproved.  He pointed out that homosexuals themselves were designing the covers.  Many homosexuals were part of the ‘White male power structure’ as were many lesbians.  He tried to show them that the world was not a heterosexual plot against homosexuals.  He pointed out that it would be suicide for him to refuse to stock the records that they or any other group might object to.  He pointed out…oh, but it goes on and on.  Reason cannot influence bigotry.

page 21.

     Finally the lesbians began to mutter about ‘justice.’  Dewey pointed out that the law was on his side.  ‘Law! Law! We’re talking about justice man, not Law!’

     Justice in a well ordered state is the prerogative of the state not individuals or sub-cultures.  But, at this time in American history sub-cultures frustrated with the greater culture began taking ‘justice’ into their own hands.  They became vigilante lynch mobs.

     They also wanted maximum publicity for their beliefs, none for the other.  So, one night between ten and twelve, Linda Delmurkwasser and two confederates entered the store.  Linda, like a female Charles Manson, supervised as the others slashed a hundred offending covers with criss-cross designs using nail files and left, smiling triumphantly at the lesbian behind the counter who gave them the high sign.

     Over the years Dewey as a retailer had to deal with many inexplicable occurrences such as razor blades concealed among the records or tear gas sprayed into the air conditioning vents.  Retailers are compelled to suffer an endless list of such petty but potentially dangerous crimes.  Spiteful religious people had been mashing half eaten ice cream cones between records for months.  In the crush of happenings when Dewey had the covers pointed out to him he marked it down as yet one more bizarre occurrence and forgot about it.

     The lesbians had expected Dewey to go to the p0lice so that they could make a row about the covers.  Sure that the action would be top news they had planned to step forward, explain their terrorist action and vindicate their cause before the world.  This could be big, they thought.

 page 22.

     When nothing happened they printed an account of in the Sapphite, their monthly paper.  Linda Delmurkwasser, who doubled as an agent provocateur for the police as well as being a lesbian had already informed the police.  She now brought the article to their attention pointing out that this time the lesbians had gone too far.  While the police had a benign attitude toward infra community crimes, perhaps because the lesbian article boasted of taking ‘justice’ into their own hands, which was an infringement of the police prerogative, they thought to offer Trueman a hand.

     Linda Delmurkwasser was also a reporter for the Daily Assassin.  In her role as double agent she would be able to give the lesbian views maximum exposure in the event of legal action.  A Sergeant Pappas called Trueman to advise him that they had read the article.

     ‘Now,’ he chuckled, ‘we can only let you people go so far before these things get out of hand.  So, we can take action in this instance against those lesbians if you want it.’

     Trueman was well aware that he had been outlawed.  The police did more to hurt than help him.  Any offer of assistance from the police made him suspicious.  He ran through the bag of tricks looking for the setup.  He couldn’t imagine one besides he had completely forgotten the incident.  He told Sergeant Pappas that the incident had never happened, no matter what the Sapphite said.  Pappas was dumbfounded.  They thought he was lying but couldn’t understand why he was protecting the lesbians.

page 23.

     Linda Delmurkwasser was also disappointed.  She sat down, tapped the table with the fingernails of her right hand twice as a new plan entered her head.  She had connections at KGRU radio.  It was the gangbuster number one station at the time.  KGRU Radio was staffed predominantly with lesbians and homosexuals.

     Trueman, in his conversations around the station discussed record covers in the terms of artwork.  Moderns always disparage the present in favor of the past.  His opinion was therefore disparaged.  But, he pointed out, the art of the past has been presorted for moderns.  The worst had disappeared into the trashcan of history; only the best has survived.  The thrill of the present, he would say, waxing enthusiastic, is that some is good, some bad, some in better taste, some worse.  The joy of it all is sorting through the material to select that which is best, or at least, to your taste.  Besides, he would say, there is such a flood of material that little of it will be remembered no matter how high the quality and the quality was high indeed.  So much was being done today that was equal to or better than anything done in the past.  In Philistia his notions flew right over the heads of his listeners who believed that anything in the past was better than anything in the present.  Trueman was willing to expound on the subject to anyone who would listen.  The boy did like to talk.

     Linda was sitting around the New Improved Granny’s Sewing Circle and Enlightened Cafe snorting a few lines when several lesbians from KGRU came in.  They greeted each other and began discussing the problems of the exploitation of women by men which soon turned to the portrayal of women as sex objects in art which devolved to record covers.  Dewey and his beliefs entered the conversation.  The notion of making a news item of cover art occurred simultaneously to each.  It was a true group epiphany.

page 24.

     KGRU news, or a ‘roving’ human interest team, called Trueman explaining that they wanted to do a special on cover art.  His store was perfectly arranged for such a TV story.  Unlike most record stores which shove bins against the walls, Trueman’s bins were in the center of the store.  Shelves seven feet high lined his walls displaying a thousand albums face out.

     Trueman was neither blind, stupid or slow.  He knew that the station was heavily homosexual.  He was aware of the lesbians’ attitude t0ward the covers.  As he was under a ban of ‘dynamic silence’ from the establishment he knew that something was afoot to discredit him.  But, if they wanted to film record covers, he told them to go ahead.

     Dewey knew exactly what they would do.  When the crew entered they immediately focused on the cover the lesbians thought was most controversial.  The record, which had a very tame cover, was Montrose’s Jump On It.  The cover featured a coy abstract design that could be interpretated as part of the midriff and thighs of a human being.  Or it could be interpreted as a two dimensional abstract design.  It could also be interpreted as a derriere and thighs.  The content was actually provided by the title and one’s prurient imagination.

page 25.

     Artists being the quirky little tricksters they are had merely provided an implied sexual innuendo, there was no indication that the design represented a woman. Homosexuals were very busy at the time putting all kinds of ambiguous designs on covers that at first glance seemed to be women’s anatomy.  One’s prurient interest aroused, on closer inspection the picture would turn out to be the juncture of a man’s arm and chest upside down made to look like cleavage.   Thus supposedly the sexual line between male and female was obliterated.  The picture ‘proved’ that a man could be aroused by another man.  This was real locker room stuff; women were not invited.  Unwilling to be duped, when Dewey looked at the Montrose cover he saw a picture of only colors and a two dimensional abstract design.  Ideologically one could see a unisex crotch.

     The TV crew was lesbian and homosexual.  As Dewey stood watching Linda Delmurkwasser motioned him over.

     ‘Dewey?  It is Dewey, isn’t it?’  She said pretending not to know so as not to have to acknowledge his existence.  ‘Come over here, Dewey, and give us some of your comments on this here ‘art.’  Linda was one of those egocentrics who thought that if she didn’t like it it wasn’t art.

     Dewey had a policy to never be on camera when he couldn’t control the content.  He was certainly not going to offer himself as a sacrifical lamb to this crew.

     ‘You don’t think I’m going to be on camera with you, do you?’  He asked staring absentmindedly across the store reciprocating Linda’s disrespect.

page 26.

     ‘Yes, oh yes.  We want you and your opinions as the important element of this picture.’  Delmurkwasser cooed in that lesbian parody of feminine coquetry.  It is interesting that homos and lesbians who are reacting to the same characteristic in men evidence their reaction in opposite ways.  They both worship the idea of manhood.  Homos despise themselves but are capable of an adoring caricature that is better than the original while lesbians despise women rejecting all their ways in favor of a manly style they cannot obtain.  Dewey smiled at Linda’s parody of of a coquette.

     ‘No, no, no.’  Dewey replied.  ‘Photograph whatever you like but I’m not going on camera.  I thought you had your own story written.’

     ‘Well, then, this won’t work.’

     ‘I guess not.’

     Frustrated again the lesbians lost their ability to concentrate.  No new ideas were forthcoming.  Then one Saturday night Linda, Casey Wingit and Donna Dancin, two newsperson women from KGRU, were at the Disco Deep Elum where they ran into Clint Devery, the morning jock on KGRU.

     Newsperson women may seem like a gross redundancy, which it is.  First the sexual revolution demanded unisex titles, so newsperson replaced newsman and newswoman.  Then sexual preferences reasserted themselves.  Unable to go back to ‘sexist’ newsman or newswoman the term was strung out to newsperson guy or woman.  Thus language is corrupted by well-intentioned stupidity.

page 27.

     Disco Deep Elum was the largest, fanciest disco in Portland.  Discos were the bacchic churches of homosexuals.  There they could party, revel and show it till the cows came home, provided they come home before 2:00 AM when the state liquor laws take effect.

     The central feature was, of course, the giant ball of mirrors rotating in a dazzling display of lights.  The layout was a large square thirty feet high.  The dance floor curved from right to left with the tables on the perimeter out to the walls.  The disc jockey and his nonstop multiple turntables were in the right back corner amid a blaze of spotlights.

     As homosexuality is centered on dominance and submission the men’s toilet was given fantastic prominence.  This was a toilet that homosexual dreams are made of.  The toilet door was high on the right wall fifteen fleet above the floor.  A long narrow rampway, not wide enough for two abreast led from behind the turntables up to the toilet door.  Banks of spotlights illuminated the ramp.  The ramp and toilet was the focal point of Disco Deep Elum.  It was where the real action was.

     The game of dominance and submission was played out on the ramp.  When a ‘knight in white satin’ went to the toilet another knight might take it in his mind to challenge him.  When the first knight came out of the toilet the challenger raced up the ramp.  One or the other party must give way in those shoulder jousts or a confrontation must result.  Thus to the thudding of one hundred twenty beats to the minute, that’s two beats per second, in the full glare of hundreds of spotlights the ‘better’ man vanquished the other before the whole Disco Deep Elum.  This was the real show.  A ‘manly’ pecking order was established.  Here was the very essence of genetic A1 homosexuality.

page 28.

     Linda, Casey and Donna were snorting lines bought from one of the numerous dealers in the place- you’ve got to get up to get down, disco buddy- and talking about things to Clint when their frustration over record covers came up yet again.  Clint had a fecund mind to go with his sense of justice.  He had just about finished explaining to them how a row could be got up by picketing Chrystalship when there was an uproar on the toilet ramp.

      Terry Trenkar had seen Billy Botman head up the ramp to the toilet.  They were both macho men of good size.  ‘I’m going to show that guy’s chicken shit.’  Trenkar muttered under his breath.  Bill Bailey at the turntables picked up the on the incipient psychodrama with the telepathy of a born irritator.  His adrenalin soared.  As the previous record had ended he picked up a tape he had set to a disco beat of ‘Big Balls In Cow Town’ by the great Bob Wills.  As Trenkar grabbed the rail and pulled himself up his first few steps, Bailey set the already high volume up a notch.  At this signal all eyes turned toward the ramp.

     Bill Botman came out of the toilet to be surpised by Trenkar coming up the ramp like a steamroller for the shoulder joust.  Botman wasn’t going to give way.  He edged over into Trenkar as they slammed together.  ‘Big Balls In Cowtown’ was turned up another thundering notch as Botman and Trenkar grappled fifteen feet above the floor now featured along with the music and dancing.

page 29.

     With a heave Trenkar raised Botman up and thrust him over the rail.  Botman grabbed the lapels of Trenkar’s shirt trying to pull him over too.  Bailey turned the volume up yet again.  The mirror ball began to quiver as well as rotate sending shafts of spectrums in every direction.  The struggle assumed titanic proportions in the intense noise and light.  Trenkar pulled back his fist to belt Botman.  As he did so Botman let go of one lapel to grab hold of Trenkar’s abundant hair.  He took a fist in the head as he put his weight into pulling Trenkar over.  Trenkar’s scream as his scalp tore loose from his skull was lost in the pounding thud of one hundred twenty to the minute.  He involuntarily pitched over the railing landing head first with what would have been a sickening thud if it could have been heard.  It was eerie.  You knew there was noise from the scuffle but the volume cut you off from reality.

     Botman who was wearing cowboy boots landed on the side of his heel giving his ankle a violent twist.  Looking over at Trenkar in the thunder whose head was crushed into the floor butt in air, Botman thought he was dead.  Rising to his feet Botman hobbled out of Deep Elum as fast as he could go.

     In the sequel Trenkar who had lost fair and square, so to speak, refused to abide by the result of the trial by combat.  He appealed to the homo community for sanctions against Botman.  As the spectacle had been performed under lights before the world the community just told him to get lost.  Trenkar then tried legal charges but strange to say there were no witnesses.  It ain’t easy being a macho guy.

page 30.

     Their plans having been formulated Linda, Casey, Donna and Clint issued out into the street as Bill Bailey played a mix of his own of Lonnie Donegan’s Dixie Darlin’ and the Beatles Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds set to the one-twenty beat.  He called the result, Disco Darlin’.  He had only combined other people’s creative efforts but with cool effrontery he considered himself the creative equal of the incomparable Lonnie Donnegan and The Beatles.  Unfortunately Bill was way too far out ahead of the crowd that night.  His effort failed with a thud and a half.

     Outside Clint and the girls stood watching as the ambulance carted the ‘Knight In White Satin’ away.

     ‘Wow, wasn’t that terrific?’  Donna shouted in awed tones her ear drums still numbed by the volume inside.

     ‘Yeah.  I never guessed it would end that way.’  Casey yelled as though she had been watching a TV show.

     ‘Yeah, man! Deep Elum’s a boffo place.  You can always count on action like that.’  Clint finished.

 

     Dewey was driving to work the following Saturday when Clint Devery announced during the news break that there would be a lesbian desmonstration against Chrystalship beginning at noon.

     ‘That’s not news!’  Dewey said aloud.  ‘You can’t announce riots before they happen.  That’s incitement.  Besides I didn’t pay for that announcement.’

     Dewey knew Devery from having taped his radio commercials at KGRU.  He stopped at the station to get an explanation.  Devery contemptuously and silently shrugged off Dewey’s question.  There is little you can do in such a rebuff.  If you get angry your anger will be used against you.  Devery was expert in homosexual confrontations, but he…oh, that’s another story.  Devery had the advantage and the microphone.  Had Dewey pleaded with him he would only have demeaned himself.  Whatever he did he could only draw the chuckle.  Trueman had already gratified Devery by responding to the message.  He merely turned and walked away.  Devery leaned out the door of his cage watching Dewey’s retreating figure.  He reached down and gave his penis a little loving squeeze as he emitted a squeal of delight because, in his mind, he had triumphed over Trueman’s manhood and asserted his own.

page 31.

     But forewarned is forearmed.  Dewey knew what they wanted.  He worked out three probable scenarios.  He knew that they didn’t have a news story; no one really cared what lesbians thought of record covers.  He knew that on TV he would get more sympathy than not.  At best lesbians represented a small fraction of women’s opinion even if they had captured the women’s movements and spoke as if they talked for all.  As a non-person Dewey knew the authorities would never let the story reach the tube. Too much free advertising.  All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and be cool.

     But Dewey had emotional problems of his own.  The psychological compression of his childhood experience had begun to decompress rapidly at the first sign of his success.  Dewey had had his orginal personality murdered on the recess yard in the second grade.  The patchwork personality he had put together amid the constant psychological battering from second grade to graduation was rapidly deteriorating.  Dewey was aware of this and aiding the process.  He was working desperately to regain his original personality or develop a suitable alternative new personality.

page 32

     The constant battering he was taking as an outlaw was taking its toll.  He knew that whatever he gained something would be lost.  He was prepared to gain himself if he lost the world.

     He was intelligent and incredibly tough mentally but alone in what might be described as behind enemy lines.  The only thing that would make the lesbians’ demonstration would be a visual confrontation between the demonstrators and himself.  He wouldn’t leave his store.

     The demonstration was more wish than reality.

     There were only half a dozen lesbians who showed up to protest.  Linda Delmurkwasser and her friends who had jobs to protect watched from across the street and down the block.  Only one cameramen and one sound man from KGRU were used.  They intended to overdub commentary at the studio.

     The six who showed waved their signs and chanted but to their dismay they were totally ignored  It was, it is, very difficult for homosexuals and lesbians to generate sympathy except in the abstract.  No one wants to go ‘queer.’

     Many women were openly contemptuous.  Some who had no intention of entering the store did so in spite.  There were many who thought the demonstration was merely a publicity stunt of Trueman’s.  Frustrated outside the demonstrators decided to invade the store.

    The store was very busy as it always was on Saturdays.  As a good field marshall Clint Devery had several knights in the store alert to the situation who would have the advantage of directing the flow of events.  As anonymous operatives their homosexuality concealed their acts would appear as disinterested or nonpartisan if anyone actually noticed what they were doing in the confusion.

page 33.

     Dolly Vargas burst into the store, threw her sign on the floor, climbed up on a rack wearing a house dress worn over levis with big combat boots to begin declaiming; ‘Listen people…’  People being the magic word that unites all ‘right thinking’ people behind the orator.  ‘Listen, people, do you know you’re supporting sexism?’  She screamed over the loud speakers from which bellowed the Rolling Stones ‘Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown.’

    In point of fact the customers couldn’t relate buying their favorite records with sexism.  Most of them thought they were watching a promotional stunt as Dewey was considered to be a publicity hound.  Had Dewey been dispassionate the knowledge would have been cold comfort for it was publicity he did not seek.

     Dewey was at the other end of the store from Dolly.  As he turned at the sound of her voice, Bobbye Dorley rushed through the left entrance behind him to push him hard in the back.  She was followed by the cameraman hoping for a violent response from Trueman.  When Dewey turned the first thing he saw was the cameraman.  Dewey knew that the cameraman would know his responsibilities.  As politely as he could with Bobbye clawing at him he asked the cameraman to leave.  A request isn’t an order so the cameraman smiled and filmed on.  Dewey ordered him to leave.  An order is something to be resisted.  The cameraman began to give Dewey an argument when a coordinator understanding the jeopardy to the station grabbed him by the arm directing him to the door.

page 34.

     Turning back, Dewey found Bobbye Dorley screaming insults into his face.  Dewey sensed the presence of Devery’s Headhunters more than identified them.  He could practically feel their hands on him as he tried to back away from Dorley.  He kept his hands at his sides as he knew that if he raised them he would be blindsided to the floor by one of Devery’s anonymous terrorists.  After that who would know.

     His requests to his employees to call the police were ignored.  Dewey managed to extricate himself from Dorley so that he got into the back to call the police.

     The police, who were observing just down the block, were prompt.  Asked to leave the lesbians refused.  They insisted that the store was a public place.  Perhaps, but a riot is illegal anywhere.  They refused to listen to the policeman’s explanation that a store is not a public place but only open to those wishing to do business there.  Order was restored only when the police began threatening to arrest any who wouldn’t leave.

     The lesbians, who  arrogated justice to their affliction, found any opposition unjust.  Opposition was not a difference of opinion in their minds but a willful disregard of justice, never mind law.  Thus they believed that Trueman and the police were in criminal collaboration to defeat their idea of justice.  Trueman was condemned in their system of justice as an inveterate and willful malefactor.  As he would not bend to their will he became in their eyes an ‘arch-homophobe.’  Work on the implications of that word for a while.  As a criminal homophobe Trueman must be punished.  Trueman was therefore entered on the homo and lesbian blacklist as an enemy.  Borrowing ideology from the Jewish network they would bless them that blessed them and curse them who wouldn’t bless them.

page 35.

     Trueman was already blacklisted by both the Old Boy and Jewish Networks.  All his efforts would now by thwarted by the Homosexual Network.  The word was put out to harass him at every step.  Ordinarily his picture would be put out and he would be tailed so that wherever he went the tail would notify his contacts that Trueman’s requests should be frustrated as much as possible.  As Trueman was on TV the picture was not necessary as everyone could recognize him on sight.  An eye for an eye.  If he would frustrate their efforts then they would frustrate his.  Hate is such a terrible thing.  Don’t you agree?

     The homosexual and lesbian network was a formidable network.  A member must comply or be expelled.  Homosexuals and lesbians are distributed throughout society in every profession and on every social level.  They function as a secret society.  Even if one could identify each one there would be no way to defend oneself as, along with Blacks, Jews and Women they have arrogated to themselves the role of the innocent victim.  Legal and social prejudices are in their favor.  In the workplace they can and do create infinite difficulties for ‘homophobes.’  Bear in mind that all that is necessary to be classed as a homophobe is to be neutral.  With the current advances in technology there is nowhere in the world that one can evade the toils of the homosexual or any other network.

page 36.

     Dewey soon found that his difficulties increased to the point where it was impossible for him to get good service.  He was treated most disrespectfully at all restaurants, waiter staffs being entirely homosexual.  Urine, feces, spit, semen and drugs were placed in his food and drink.  He began to be sick the day after eating out.  He resorted to making reservations under assumed names which did him no good as he was easily recognized at sight.

     The Old Boy Network had been tampering with his cars for years.  He had bought a car from Leuni Cadillac.  They had disconnected his back brakes, destroyed his emergency brake and set the engine to idle at forty miles an hour.  No one in town would correct the idle, Trueman wasn’t aware of the brakes.  He was laughingly told that all Cadillacs were designed to idle at that speed.  As he was still struggling with this problem, which was actually attempted murder, offenses against his car began to occur regularly.

     More importantly the lesbians and homosexuals decided Trueman was making a fortune off them.  This must be stopped and at least some of the money recovered.  The American way would have been opening their own store going into competition with him.  But the American way was fast disappearing.  The constitutional guarantees are an impediment to the doctrine of Political Correctness to which the advocacy of homosexuality is fundamental.

page 37.

     It was not enough to compete with him.  In their minds he had ‘stolen’ profits from them.  He must be cheated and robbed as they, in their minds, had been by him.  The money must be recovered.  Rudy Walling did set up a small shop between Daddy Cool’s and the Black Bottom called Reddy Rudy’s.  The name was more than a double entendre.  On one hand it traded on the electric industry’s trademark of Reddy Kilowatt.  On another it had the implication of the homosexual’s being always ready for sex.  On yet another it was a reference to Little Richard’s lyric:  Tutti Frutti, I want Rudy.

     A very curious campaign of sabotage against Trueman began.  Every effort was made to undermine his operation.  Homos and lesbians filtered in to dominate the staff.  In the Candy Store Era before the advent of AIDS very heavy homosexual proselytization was conducted.  Frequently one could identify men who had been recently seducees by the Headhunters.  A concentrated campaign was conducted to seduce Opie Wooley Trueman’s manager.  As Wooley was a cocaine addict and weak minded the task was not too difficult.  Wolley’s loyalty was transferred from Trueman to the homos.

     Reddy Rudy’s inventory was then transferred from Chrystalship to his store on a daily basis.  It was a homosexual’s dream.  They were screwing Trueman  from behind and he didn’t even know it.  The staff practiced offending the customers, trying to drive them away.  Trueman found to his dismay that his male customers were being solicited.  Leo Levi without looking up to identify who was before him tried to solicit Trueman.  When Trueman fired Levi eight of the staff quit in protest while charges of discrimination were attempted to be filed against Trueman.

page 38.

     Trueman’s turnover, always high, became ferocious.  Some hired in the morning left at lunch and never came back.  A week or two became a long term employee.

     Trueman, who was not aware of the nature of the problem was baffled by what was happening.  The morality he had been raised with was no longer valid.  Something was happening but he couldn’t identify it.  Actually it was a stage in the war between Judeo-Christian morality and Revolutionary morality.  The disciplined Judeo-Christian behavioral ideals were being replaced by the self-indulgent undisciplined ideals of the Revolution.  The Constitution was falling before Revolutionary Political Correctness.  The embattled Catholic and Protestant forces either couldn’t identify the problem or were powerless to resist it .  At any rate there was no evidence that the problem was comprehended at all by society.  There was only a call for a larger police force, an even more invasive State.

     The old ideal of freedom of speech was being replaced by a system of censorship imposed by the PC factions.  The world was dividing into Us and Them.  Semites and anti-Semities, homos and homophobes, Black Racists and White Racists, factionalists against universalists.  If one belong to the former groups one had freedom to belabor one’s opponents; if to the latter one was automatically guilty of anti-social behavior.  One’s opinion became invalid and criminal.  While censorship was theoretically deplored the notion of censorship applied only to the right to publish pornography.

page 39.

     Trueman was of the old school of American thought.  He saw no harm in anyone saying anything they wanted.  Words are cheap; only deeds count.  While he sensed a change in the direction of American mores he was not quick enough to identify the problem.  While Trueman was not so ardent in his belief that he would defend to the death anyone’s right to say what they chose he believed they had a right to say it.  He didn’t censor his record inventory.  The inventory represented all shades of opinion.  Irish revolutionaries with absurd clandestine style even sold him records by the Wolfetones.  Wolfe Tone was an eighteenth century Protestant Irish revolutionary.  The Irish were so insular in their beliefs that they were aghast when Trueman placed the records prominently in view in the racks.  They quite seriously thought he would be arrested.

     Trueman took the broad view, the lesbians didn’t.  While he carried the covers to which the lesbians objected he also carried the Olivia label of lesbian artistes.  He carried the whole line as a service to the audience as only one record by Chris Williamson had any commercial value.

     The lesbians decided that Dewey shouldn’t be allowed to carry Olivia.  The ‘profits’ should not go to benefit a person they considered a proven male chauvinist pig and homophobe.  Dewey suddenly found that he couldn’t get his orders filled.  He couldn’t get anyone at Olivia to come to the phone and his rep was always in China or Siam.

     Politically Correct groups were beginning to do real violence to political and social ideals as found in the Constitution.  They had no tolerance for opposing points of view while demanding unconditional acceptance of their own.  In the actual context of law the lesbians’ act was illegal but as the Olivia line had little commerical value Trueman let the issue drop while retaining a lingering sense of resentment.

page 40.

     All of these groups harbor large numbers of mentally unbalanced individuals who find legitimization under the cover of the group organization.  Their sense of right and wrong is so skewed in favor of their ideological ‘justice’ as to be indistinguishable from criminality by traditional standards.  many of these lesbians were outraged that ‘their’ music still remained in a ‘bigoted homophobes’ shop.  Thus one day a mentally overwrought, hysterical Sally Ferguson marched into Trueman’s store, scooped up the remains of the Olivia section and marched defiantly out the door clutching her precious cargo to her breast.  The sympathetic lesbian at the counter gave Sally an approving high sign as she marched past.

     Trueman, who watched his inventory very closely, was mystified by the disappearance of the section, although no one would tell him what had happened.  The word of Sally’s action spread throughout the lesbian community to their general satisfaction.  The lesbians of course had close ties to the Women’s Movement.  The story when told to women not involved in the lesbian movement didn’t receive the same sort of approval.  In fact the story elicited strong disapproval as it was, after all, theft.  Certain of the lesbians reflected on this disapproval.  While they still didn’t think it wrong to expropriate their records from a homophobe they wished to absolve themselves in the eyes of the normal women.  To rectify matters the Olivia rep was authorized to issue Trueman a credit for thirty dollars.

page 41.

     ‘Mr. Trueman sir, we’re very sorry for what happened.  Even though we’re not responsible here’s a credit for thirty dollars.’

     Dewey looked at the credit a moment, then said:  ‘Your friend took a hundred fifty dollars worth.  I can’t accept a credit for thirty dollars.  Besides which unless you give cash the credit is worthless.  You won’t sell me records and if you did your people would only steal them back.  So thanks for a meaningless gesture that is probably only meant to absolve your people’s guilt.  Keep your credit and a pox on you and yours.’

     The rep, who was really a pleasant person but caught up in an ideology no different than Judaism, Communism or Nazism was overweight by thirty-five pounds, dressed in long johns, bib overalls and the ubiquitous combat boots with turned down socks went by the name of ‘Belle Starre.’  She thrust out her lower lip which quivered slightly.  She and her fellows needed to expiate this guilt.  Trueman was refusing them their hypocritical satisfaction.

     Belle Starre turned with heartbroken rejection from Trueman.  She could now understand, she thought, how cruelly inconsiderate a man could be.  He really deserves his reputation, she added to herself.  As the passed the front counter she laid the credit on the desk.  She would at least be able to say that she left the credit at the store.  Trueman wouldn’t be able to honestly deny the fact; the lesbian behind the counter was her witness.

page 42.

     With the removal of the Olivia catalog the lesbians could think of no other way to draw Trueman into a feud over the covers.  It was a pyrrhic victory but Trueman had successfully sidestepped the issue.  The lesbian and homosexual communities still continued to work against Trueman’s interests.  A steady campaign of vilification was carried on.  Closet homosexuals who passed for straight carried the slander to all levels of society.

     The lesbian and homosexual communities had been in the van of the effort to  have the polygraph tests made illegal.  Interestingly enough neither honest people nor criminals object to polygraphs.  It is only the sneak and cheat who objects.  It is they who have something to conceal.  At the same time homosexual groups were parading their ‘sexual preference’ they were terrified that they would be discovered through polygraphs.  They made an issue of ‘invasion of privacy.’

     When the use of polygraphs for employee testing became illegal Trueman became, ipso facto, criminal in their eyes.  Closely after polygraphs were outlawed Linda Delmurkwasser conceived the notion of writing an article for the Assassin exposing the ‘real’ Dewey Trueman while concealing the ‘real’ Linda Delmurkwasser.  The goal being always to present a subjective need under the guise of objectivity.

     It is in the interest of any group pursuing a political agenda to infiltrate the news reporting agencies.  From within they can slant reporting and influence editorial policy toward their ends.  Of course, at the same time it is necessary to prevent any dissenters to their opinion being employed.  Actual ownership is unnecessary.  Lesbians and homosexuals had such a presence on the Daily Assassin that the paper no longer tried reporting the news objectively but was solidly in the homosexual camp.  All homosexuals were portrayed as saints while all  ‘homophobes’ were devils.  The paper openly endorsed homosexuality while conducting a terrorist defamatory campaign against anyone who voiced doubt or opposition.   The ‘freedom loving’ editor of the Daily Assassin, Mingo Miybriy, herself a closet lesbian who only indulged her passions on business trips and with pros who were paid, actively encouraged Linda to remove the blot on Oregon’s decency in the name of freedom and equality.

page 43.

     Linda knew Attorney Trashman, Attorney was his given name, who had been employed by Chrystalship.

     Attorney was a pasty faced sadist.  He died his hair jet black, greasing it into curls long before the style became fashionable.  He had been with Chrystalship an incredible eight months before he had been fired.  He had been a constant source of irritation.

     Trashman had taken full advantage of the Candy Store Era.  He was so active he merely went from one case of gonorrhea to another.  He had become so sensitive to penicillin that his doctor required him to wait an hour for possible reactions before releasing him.

     Trueman had sent him home on two occasions.  Once when he came to work wearing gauze pants with no underwear discharging copious amounts of gonorrheic pus.  The second time Attorney and another employee, Jim Frascatti, came to work wearing T-shirts emblazoned Slave and Master.  Frascatti who wore the Slave shirt was also searing black plastic manacles with a couple links of chain as bracelets.

     The second dismissal had caused a jarring argument about Trueman’s alleged bigotry and homophobia.  Trueman would have fired Attorney over either incident but he feared that if Trashman filed a suit the Old Boy Network would take delight in judging against him.  Also the reaction in the homosexual and lesbian communities would have been such that he wouldn’t have been able to walk across the street without interference.  This was almost the status quo as it was.  The homosexuals as the saying goes had him over a barrel.

     Atttorney Trashman was severely mentally unbalanced.  He decorated his bedroom with various harnesses and sexual devices.  He even had a real straight jacket stolen from Salem.  One wall was a display of ballpeen hammers from the tiniest to the largest.  Attorney delighted in a story he told of a pick-up being led into his bedroom.  The guy took one look at the hammers, turned in fright screaming:  Oh no.  Not me you don’t, I’m game for anything but not those hammers.’

     Attorney Trashman lingered on while employees turned over at a ferocious rate.  Trueman did not have a single dependable employee.  His so-called managers became mere conduits to carry out instructions which they failed to do.  When his manager quit Dewey was forced to give Trashman a chance.  Dewey had forgotten that he had sent Trashman home but Attorney continued to nurse a grudge against the ‘bigot.’

page 45.

     Drugs were the bane of Trueman’s existence.  Not that he used them but everyone who ever worked for Chrystalship was deep into them.  They argued that they needed drugs to get them through the day.  They thought they performed better under the influence.  During the Candy Store Era drugs were conspicuously everywhere.  The record indistry had deteriorated so badly that not only did the perverts control production and design but the reps used marijuana and cocaine to corrupt store employees.  Now, that means that the manufacturers supplied the wherewithal to purchase the drugs.

     Trueman’s purpose in having polygraph tests had been to keep out drug dealers and heroin addicts.  His great fear was that the efficiency of the store would be destroyed if drug dealers and addicts got the upper hand.  He spent a lot of money for nothing.  Opie Wooley was already there.  No sooner had he hired the polygraph administrator than Opie had corrupted him with free cocaine.  It seemed to the easiest thing to do no matter who the target was.

     Trueman had also had a confrontation with Hannah Cohen of the Big Carrot Record Group over her lavish distribution of cocaine to the employees.  Hannah had stoutly defended her ‘rights’ and refused to desist.  The resulting confrontation with Warren Morley, the sales manager of Big Carrot, had resulted in Hannah’s being sent back to LA, hardly a punishment to her, while Trueman had his credit cut off permanently.

     When he subsequently found his former employee from Eugene, Dobby, who now worked as rep for Individual Artists Group, trading records for cash with Wooley to buy some touring group cocaine he didn’t make anymore phone calls to the credit manager, he just told Dobby not to do it again.  Oddly enough it never occurred to him that Wooley was selling the cocaine.  Wooley had a clean polygraph test.

page 46.

     Between drugs and sex Dewey was revolted by Attorney’s habits of which Trashman kept him fully informed.  Still Attorney was the only employee with any seniority.  Dewey believed that Trashman was dishonest, therefore he made it a condition for Trashman’s advancement that he take another polygraph.  Attorney reluctantly accepted.

     Trashman was a thief; he failed the polygraph.  As one would expect of someone with ballpeen hammers on his bedroom wall Attorney was cooly insolent in denouncing the reliablitly of the tests.  Trueman was in a quandary.  The campaign against the polygraph, given maximum publicity and endorsement by the Assassin, was close to success.  The lesbian assembly woman, Greta Lafrenniere, would put the bill through in three month’s time.  Trueman was almost simple in the goodwill he bore people.  He probably would have given Attorney another chance anyway but as he was under heavy abuse for using the tests plus their imminent banning he did keep Attorney Trashman on.

     A week later five hundred dollars under Trashman’s supervision disappeared.  Through no one else had the opportunity to take it, Trashman cooly and contemptuously dismissed the notion he had taken it.  Nor would he discuss the matter further.

     Trueman took the matter as a test for dominance; he had no choice but to fire him.  Trashman then warned Trueman not to make trouble for him or else, making a hammering motion to emphasize his words.  As an Outlaw Trueman had no recourse to the law so he had to suffer the humiliation.  Unwilling to let matters rest there Attorney actually sought a lawyer to sue Trueman for defamation of character but was unable to find an attorney to represent him.

page 47.

     Trashman had then gone to work for the New Criterion Coffee Shop on the second floor of Pilgrim’s.  As the Candy Store Era progressed the homos became more bold.  Many and wondrous were the stories about the scene in New York.  One such influential story was that there was a place in the Big Apple where at lunchtime a man could put his penis in a hole in a curtain in a certain location and an anonymous party would minister to his need.  Partially in response to this story the locals made the second floor toilet their social club; the place was not so anonymous as the hole in the curtain.

     This was a hideous situation in a family shopping center.  It would have been an easy matter to restore order.  But the situation was complicated by one of those ugly little realities in American life that no one wishes to acknowledge.  Racism.  Pilgrim’s Center was owned by Jorge and Benito Sukamoto.  In terms of human interest stories the Sukamotos had an astounding one.  It is almost a shame to skim over it so briefly.

page 48.

III.

You sit there a cryin’

Right in your beer.

You think you’ve got troubles?

My friend listen here…

Now, there stands a blind man,

A man who can’t see.

He’s not complainin’

Why should you or me?

Don’t tell me your troubles,

I’ve got enough of my own.

Be thankful you’re livin’

Drink up and go home.

Freddie Hart

     The Sukamotos originally came from Nagasaki one of the two Christian centers of Japan.  They were Catholic, their family had been for three hundred years.  The Japanese had been converted by Portuguese and Spanish priests.  Hence Jorge and Benito were named after Iberian Catholic saints.  Both had been born in Japan.  Persecuted for their religion the Catholic Sukamotos responded to the governments request to emigrate to the East Pacific Rim.

     Entry to the United States by the twenties was impossible for them so the Sukamotos elected to go to South America.  They were destined for the Japanese colony in Brazil, but having landed in Peru they drifted up to Colon, Colombia.  They did not find Colombia congenial so they cast longing eyes toward the United States.  Father Ishi was an enterprising sort so gathering up his wife Eleanor and the boys he entered Mexico where he found a way to be smuggled into California.  Not really more difficult then than it is now.

page 49.

     Ishi wanted to farm but the Californians had passed a law forbidding ownership of land to non-citizens.  They also passed laws preventing the Japanese from becoming citizens.  Not so different from the way Japanese treated aliens.  All depends on which foot the shoe is on. 

     Ishi therefore, ignoring his consuls requests to stay in LA kept moving northward to Oregon where Japanese could own land.  By the late thirties he was a successful truck farmer.  He, Eleanor and the boys worked hard on the land.  Jorge and Benito excelled by dint of hard work at school.  In 1938 Benito was sent back to Japan to acquire a Japanese veneer.  He was trapped there after December 7, 1941 for the duration of the war.

     Jorge entered Harvard in September of ’41.

     In the Spring of ’42 the  order came for the Japanese of the Western Defense Command to be interned away from the Coast.  Camps were established in Colorado, Idaho and the desert regions of California.  It is erroneously believed that all Japanese were interned.  Japanese in the Heartland and the Eastern Defense Command were not disturbed.  Any Westerners who had a place to go were allowed to go there.  Thus Ishi and Eleanor joined Jorge in Boston where they worked at good paying jobs in defense plants.  Continuing to live frugally they returned to Oregon with more money than they had when they left.  Plus Jorge had his Harvard degree.

page 50

    End Of Clip 1, go to Clip 2 and Conclusion

Disco Donn Demands Deliverance

by

R.E. Prindle

Part II-5

     So I get this inspiration and jump and say ah yes, but all gods are one,  Jews, Christian and Muslims all worship the same god.

     So much for ecumenism, man.  Boy, did they come down on me.  I couldn’t believe it.  You won’t believe it.  They actually jumped up and down screaming at me that I’m disrespectful to their august persons, that I’m a bigot, a troublemaker, a disturber of the peace, I oughta be kicked out of school and so on.  They were disgraceful but I’ve found the older you are the geekier your act.  Screw ’em.  So they don’t have the balls to kick me out of school but I can read the handwriting and besides I have enough of so-called higher education.  I don’t have to be told what to think and that’s the only kind of education they’re capable of giving, the stupid Fascist bastards.

     So next thing you know, here I am bussin’ with the band from Charlevoix.  Hey, come on, have a swig, you’ll feel better.  With any luck you’ll look better.’

     Big Daddy’s story about himself was accurate but like most people he wasn’t aware of his major influences.  Raised in different circumstances Big Daddy would have been a very different person, maybe a couple hundred pounds lighter.  America’s story has become one of eating disorders.  He hadn’t made himself what he was, he was the product of his environment.  Congratulate yourself America.  The beating and hammering he took combined with the closing of opportunities to him by the racial and immigrant situation prevented his aspiring to success in the corporate world.  The same forces blunted his manhood so that on the one hand he sought redemption in homosexual adventures while on the other, in addition to being a clown, he became a fool.  Shut out by ‘polite society’ of his own race he had nowhere to turn but inward, or to strike out in blind rage.  Screamin’ Big Daddy Gargantua’s response was a combination of the two.

page 201.

     Big Daddy was an intelligent man.  He was even immensely talented.  He knew a great deal about music.  He was not original, but he was as gifted at arranging as the best at any point in musical history. The Bull Lee Band played some terrific sets.  As a dance band which means everything is played loud, no dynamics, they could go through four or five songs in a twenty minute set without anyone noticing rhythm changes.  The dances just fluidly moved from one song into the next.  Big Daddy was really hep to the rhythm section.  He learned from both disco and reggae how to play the melody off the beat.  The band could start with Question Mark And The Mysterians ‘Ninety-six Tears’ and combine it with Doug Sahm’s ‘Mendocino’ before slipping into ‘Unchained Melody’ and ending with the Rolling Stones’ ‘Get Offa My Cloud.’

     It may be difficult to visualize if you weren’t there but after six beers, a couple joints and whatever with a hot Sorority Sister on your arm I’m here to testify that there was no incentive to come back to earth.  I mean, MAN, that was done with four distinctive beats but you never knew where the changes happened.

page 202.

     In the fifties when big Daddy was small Kerouac and Burroughs began proselytizing society to their vision of anarchy.  Kerouac made the wider societal impact but Burroughs’ message hit hard in the music business.  All kinds of groups were named from his books.  Bull Lee was Kerouac’s name for Burroughs in ‘On The Road.’  The name was also punning as in ‘Bully Band’ meaning terrific in the Teddy Roosevelt sense as well as ‘Bully’ in the conventional sense.  ‘Steely Dan’, a very successful group was named after the dildo in ‘Naked Lunch.’  The Other Half, The Insect Trust, The Soft Machine and many others took their names, inspiration and philosophy from Burroughs.  They pushed drugs and homosexual anarchy.  The goal was to burn the ballroom down, tear it all down until society reflected their own inner reality which was a barren desert.

     Big Daddy didn’t even have to think about it, Burroughs made perfect sense to him.  Since Big Daddy rejected the cant of what passed for formal education he turned a deaf ear to school but drank in Burroughs.  He understood Burroughs’ comic strip style of writing perfectly.

     Wherever Big Daddy and the Bull Lee Band played drugs showed up in abundance.  There would be plenty on the SMU campus after the band left.  Big Daddy and the band preached foolishness from the bandstand.  When Big Daddy got going he moved his big belly around in monumentally foolish fashion.  When he was honkin’ sax he could swing the sax up and down to the right and left while he got his belly going up and down to the left then switch back and forth.  You had to be there.

page 203.

     The Bull Lees were as good as any band going.  They never got a contract for two reasons.  First, Big Daddy was terrified of success.  He’d rather complain about the injustice of the system than put his ego on the line.  Second, they were a copy band.  Big Daddy could arrange like crazy but he couldn’t compose.  No original material, no contract.  Augie Myron and Johnny and Jack did go on to successful careers in other bands though.

     So Big Daddy was on a collision course with the vanishing point.  But in the meantime he was thoroughly enjoying himself.  He offered Donn a drink again.

     Donn had been refusing Big Daddy for hundreds of miles but he broke down and took the pint from Cunningham.  The travelers, expecially a couple prim ladies had been complaining to the driver for hours.  But the driver was loath to take Big Daddy on.  Big Daddy knew this.  He also knew the driver would jump on Donn.  thus he cleared his throat loudly as he openly passed the bottle to Donn.  The driver braked the big bus to a stop.  Opening the door he stalked down the aisle to Donn:  ‘Alright, Buddy, that’s it.  There is no drinking on my bus.  Off! Now!’

     Big Daddy softly smiled:  ‘Sorry about that pal.  Come on by in Big D, I’ll see that you get in.’

page 204.

     Donn Stepped off in Plano to spend the next two days hitchhiking into Waco.

VI.

Out In Oregon

     Donn in his misery had almost forgotten that Oregon existed except for his nagging apprehension of Maggie Spingold.  In Donn’s absence many plots had come to fruition all in the same summer and fall.  Albert Morley had been driven from the state, Richard Dick had been railroaded into prison, Dewey Trueman had been driven from business and E.L. Shaddai had been destroyed.

     Albert Morley had displeased the Old Boy Network, most probably because he wasn’t a ‘team player.’  In other words he pursued his own goals for his own benefit regardless of the wishes of the Old Boys to pursue his goals for their benefit.  They have their plans and one is supposed to subordinate one’s desires to theirs.  One is supposed to wait one’s ‘turn.’  They will determine whose shot it is, not you.  Morley had seen his opportunity and gone for it.  He had founded a small electronics firm.  Through constant harassment he had fled the state to set up in North Carolina.  There he was to prosper.  From there he sent letters to the Daily Assassin complaining of the Old Boy attitude.  The Old Boys didn’t care, they just laughed.  After all they had won.  Morley was in North Carolina.

page 205.

     Richard Dick was a more curious case.  He was a Native Oregonian.  He had enjoyed a career as a minor sports figure.  After a lengthy minor league career he had actually played in two games as a Yankee.  The pinstripes must have a remarkable effect on a man because Dick considered himself an important man about town.  He wanted to be a member of the Grammercy Club which was hopelessly beyond his reach.  He couldn’t even obtain membership with the other twenty thousand in the Multnomah County Athletic Club.

     He was a wild and crazy guy.  He liked to think of himself as dancing madly backward on a sea of air beyond the edge.  His imagination was spent devising startling escapades.  Angered by his rejection he tried to offend his rejecters as much as possible.  Thus he opened a restaurant called Dick’s In with only one N.  That drew gasps of astonishment and notoriety.  But the attention had failed after a few months while not giving him any acceptance.

     He then opened a second restaurant called Dick’s Out.  Once again gasps of astonishment.  In the nature of his enterprise no one would work for him who was in the least respectable.  He therefor had recourse to the street girls who ran the streets of downtown.  These girls who slept in the underpasses and wherever were mostly fifteen and sixteen.  Runaways, naturally, they knew nothing of hygiene or even cleanliness.

     Had Dick been conscientious in running his restaurants he might very well have made at least an adequate living from them.  There were plenty of people rooting for him.  But he was unable to apply himself to the details of day to day affairs.  The restaurants were draining his resources.  In an attempt to save himself he opened yet another; a juice bar based on the model of the movie ‘A Clockwork Orange.’  This evil movie which is followed by a series of rapes and crimes everytime it is shown was hated by anyone of good sense.  This time Dick thoroughly outraged the Old Boys while offending thoses who had been sympathetic or neutral.

page 206.

     The juice bar failed ignominiously leaving Richard Dick with only his Dick’s Out.  Devoid of defense, the Old Boy Network moved in on him.  They followed the time honored method of sex and drugs.  Dick was desperate to recoup his finances.  Being short on morals as well as sense he was more than open to selling cocaine.  Shoot, ask John DeLorean.  An Old Boy was given a kilo to sell Dick.  Needless to say as soon as the money and dope changed hands the arm of the law grabbed hold of Dick.

     He had no money for a lawyer which was of no consequence as he would not have been properly defended if he had so he took a public defender.  The thing was obviously a clear cut case of police entrapment which Dick should have been able to beat.  Now at the mercy, or rather, in the clutches of the Old Boys, the Daily Assassin gave his story full coverage.  To show the full extent of his degeneracy he was depicted as the seducer of fifteen and sixteen year old girls.  Reading the Assassin one would have thought these girls were the virgin daughters of the ministry rather than girls who had sold their charms for drugs from the age of ten on.

     As Dick had wanted to be among his persecutors he suddenly realized the extent of his perfidy.  He honored their desires by being sincerely contrite and remorseful.  They gave him ten years in Salem anyway.

page 207.

     The third feather in their cap was the destruction of Dewey Trueman.  There was nothing overly dramatic in his elimination.  The Sukomotos, his landlords, had refused to give him an option to renew his lease.  While they had promised renewal and not to worry six months before the expiration date they pulled the rug out from under him at renewal time.

     He was offered suicide locations at high prices which he declined.  All three Networks wanted to see him in jail also.  He was offered sex, drugs and stolen merchandise, all three of which he had the character to decline.  Absolutely frustrated they had an old homosexual, George Grandios, befriend him.  Dewey didn’t know that Grandios was a homosexual but seen in George’s company the maxim of guilt by association applied.  Very interesting how homosexuals can defame a man by their presence while decrying society’s lack of tolerance.

     To gratify their desires at least vicariously Grandios lured Trueman to King David’s Delicatessen.  King David’s was an old tradition in Portland.  Their former location had been demolished.  They were moved into the brand new Justice Center as the jail was humorously named.  Talk about a suicide location.  Grandios sat Trueman down amongst a group of homosexuals at the very moment that Richard Dick was being sentenced inside.  A veritable parade of Old Boys, straight and gay, minced by the table as though in disguise with big smiles on their faces.

page 208.

     Finally in the glorious Summer of Vengeance the arch-homophobe, so-called, Earl Shaddai was brought down.  The problem with Earl was that there was no convenient handhold to bring him down.  He led a spotless life.  There were no glaring sexual peccadilloes.  He had nothing to do with drugs.  He was just a hard working self-respecting County Commissioner.  He had rejected the blandishments of sex and drugs.

     His constituency was well pleased with him as he was strictly following the heterosexual platform on which he had been elected.  While he had no control of the school board he was using whatever influence he had to prevent the teaching of the parity of homosexuality with heterosexuality while discouraging the hiring of known homosexuals.  Earl’s activities ran counter to the desires of the Homosexual Network which wanted their disease taught in grade schools as an acceptable alternative to heterosexuality.

     There seemed to be and there was no legitimate way to get rid of Earl.  The only possible way was a character assassination.  Behind the back sniping and a whisper campaign, two of the usual tools, would have taken too long and most probably would not have been effective.  Earl had too many followers who could couteract such piecemeal defamation.

     What is involved here are two conflicting points of view.  If in the democratic political process one doesn’t ascribe the notion of right and wrong to either side what one has is a ‘democratic’ decision on the part of the voters to reject homosexuality much as one might vote to reject the sales tax.  The voters had spoken.  But, as the voice of the people ran counter to the wishes of the Old Boy, Jewish and Homosexual Networks democracy had to be defeated by autocratic means.  The will of the people had to be perverted.  In America this is called Democracy with a Big D.

page 209.

     Interest groups in Oregon, and presumably throughout the country, repeatedly circumvent the will of the people.  Thus there is a conflict between the people and the Dictatorship of the Marginals or as Richard Bernstein calls it in his book:  The Dictatorship of Virtue.   No matter what the expressed will of the people may be these self-selected censors annul it.  Thus even though Oregonians approved of capital punishment such sentences are thwarted by these censors who, one must believe, think that democracy is wrong although they hypocritically defend it.

     As regards Earl Shaddai the question now arose of how to dispose of him against the will of his electorate who supported him wholeheartedly.  The action taken while not to be unexpected was so boldly in defiance of propriety and indeed, the law, as to take one’s breath away.  Indeed, to leave one gasping.  Not since the Star Chamber proceedings of Thomas Cromwell had such a proceeding occurred.  Well, maybe the Gestapo or KGB, Mossad, CIA but those are the exceptions that prove the rule.  The Oregon Daily Assassin had always been used to indicate the acceptability of certain individuals.  If the Assassin had been shameless in the past it now passed all bounds of decency.  It now printed a two page article denouncing E.L. as nothing less than a hypocritical arch-homosexual and for that reason unqualified to be a County Commissioner.  The hotel bit mentioned earlier was dredged up.

     The Assassin presented absolutely no evidence to support their contention.  It only vilified Earl not even for blemishes but for things they considered ridiculous.  The manufactured testimony of ‘witnesses’ was given uncontested credence.

page 210.

     Earl was vilified for being from Texas where he received his degree from the then defunct University Of Plano; as humerous a college name as ever existed, the paper made capital use of it.  Plano, North of Dallas, is where Donn was ejected from the bus.  The university records were now kept in the basement of the ex-president’s home in New Jersey as if this fact reflected somehow on Earl’s abilities.  The testimony of a list of narcs, agents provocateur and hitmen were produced to prove Earl was a homosexual.  These people were employed by the Old Boys against all their targets.  Morley, Dick and Trueman knew all by name as did many others.  In print the fact that they were stooges went unmentioned.

     Earl’s trip to the Great Gotham Hotel with Donn Contrales was, from a careful reading of the text, the only incontrovertible fact in the whole denunciation.  Witnesses claimed to have conducted Earl to hotel rooms where he watched, he wasn’t accused of joining in, homosexual orgies.  The article’s message was found in the last paragraph which said in so many words:  This is what we can do to any ‘homophobe’ out there.  We are going to recall E.L. Shaddai and we don’t want to see him re-elected.  Now, there is a perfect example of ‘democracy’ in America.

     There was no way for Earl to retaliate.  He couldn’t sue because no lawyer would have represented him and if one had no court would have admitted such a ‘frivolous’ suit.  As with Cromwell’s Star Chamber he was allowed no recourse.  This was homosexual ‘democracy’ in action.   Thank-you, Mingo Miybriy.

page 211.

     Earl was recalled.  He gamely went from door to door explaining the situation.  He even got a respectable vote but the message not to re-elect him had been too clear.  Too many jobs were at stake.  The Dictatorship of the Marginals had thwarted the democratic process, ‘Virtue’ had won.  The multitude was blissfully unaware.  As was Donn in his misery.

VII.

Down In Texas

     Donn’s parents welcomed him back.  He was their son.  The rest of the town was not so forgiving for Donn had left reviling the town swearing to shake its dust off his feet and its imprint off his soul.  Nevertheless Donn felt much more secure believing he had placed a barrier between himself and Maggie Spingold.  There is a great deal of truth in today’s axiom:  You can run but you can’t hide.  Even with the less developed electronics of the day one could not only be followed but anticipated anywhere in the world.

     One may be sure that famous fugitives such as Abbie Hoffman or the Weathermen were not long out of sight of the authorities.  As they were fugitives in hiding they had already been neutralized.  They daren’t commit further crimes lest they give themselves away, blow their cover.  Why go to the expense of trying them and storing them in expensive prisons?  They weren’t marauders after all but political criminals.  As the federales say:  we could have picked them up anyday.

page 212.

     Donn wasn’t hidden either.  Maggie had anticipated a return to Waco and the folks back home.  Where does a man at the end of his tether go?  The Homosexual Network informed Maggie of Donn’s arrival within hours.  Nor was it Maggie’s intention to leave Donn in peace.  He intended to make his life miserable until Donn was before him on his knees.  The majesty of Maggie had been offended.

     After a couple weeks rest Donn, relaxed and refreshed, confidently went to seek employment suited to his tastes.  There was none of that to be found in Waco.  Donn had to find normal employment.  His parents and his own self-respect demanded it.  In his mind he daren’t step outside Waco.

     He had little choice but to accept a laborers job.  He had no difficulty obtaining construction work.  There he experienced little harrassment for several weeks.  But then it started; Maggie’s slander campaign kicked in.  The story of his arrest for buying child snuff films was quietly circulated amongst his fellow workers.  People began to discuss the topic of child molestation around him.  It seemed as though that was the only topic they were interested in.

     Donn began to have problems with his truck.  Expensive problems.  His battery went dead a couple times; he blew a head gasket; his driver side turn signal went out repeatedly; he was compelled to drive around with a cracked windshield.  Every time he turned a corner it seemed that a police car was around somewhere.

page 213.

     Worse still, accidents started to happen around him.  A falling paint can narrowly missed him.  Pipes accidentally were swung head level as he walked by.  Donn was uneasy.  If he hadn’t believed himself a wanted man he would have moved on for whatever good that would have done him.  The complacency with which he had begun on his return home now vanished as his mood darkened and deteriorated under his treatment which seemed more than coincidental but could be attributed to ‘paranoia.’  Maggie’s influence was even indcated by remarks others made behind his back which he was allowed to overhear.

    Then it happened.  He was nudged off a scaffold.  He took a header in the dirt.  It was only from the second story but he threw his arms out to break his fall thereby breaking both his forearms.  The crack of the bones one after the other was heard across the construction site.

     The cast on each arm meant that Donn was unemployed.  He now had all his time to dwell on his problems.  All the despair he had been resisting for so long rushed in upon him from all four sides overwhelming his mind.  He was close to hitting bottom.

     Waco is deep within the Bible Belt.  The zaniness of the fundamentalists was everywhere about him.  Donn had always disparaged Christianity.  That was one of the things that he had hated about Waco.  But as his mind sank beneath his woes he became receptive to the idea of Christian salvation.

     Its very atavism began to appeal to him.  Unable to deal with reality he slowly began to take refuge in God.

page 214.

     The whole notion of God is a product of man’s adolescence.  When man first learned enough to emerge from pure savagery he began to develop the Gnosis.  Unable to understand himself and his environment in a scientific or rational manner he interpreted and explained himself in metaphysical terms.  Nor is this phase of man’s intellect to be despised.  Except for its attribution of supernatural forces as cause early man’s explanations can be interpreted to roughly conform to scientific explanations.

     The Gnosis itself developed in all areas from China to Egypt.  Its focal point seems to have been somewhere from the Indus Valley to Mesopotamia.  Certainly until the time of the Jewish transportation from Jerusalem to Babylon the Gnosis evolved in an unrestricted manner, innovations coming from where they would.  There was only one Gnosis of numerous variations.

     The transportation of the Jews in 586 BC changed all that.  The Jews’ reaction to their transportation put a kink in the Gnosis that was to affect it drastically about eight hundred years on.

     Realistically, in the terms of the time, the Israelites and Judahites were a back country people, rustics, rubes.  While Christians accept the Jewish account of the magnificence of the first temple it must in reality have been inconsequential compared to the magnificent edifices of Egypt, Babylonia and even the coastal cities of Phoenicia.  After all, if the biblical account is true Solomon mortgaged parts of the Jewish nation, which he had to surrender, to build it.  The temples of Egypt and Babylon reflected the accumulated wealth of millennia.

page 215.

     The spirit of the Judahites was already crushed by their military defeat as they trudged along under the eyes and spears of their conquerors on the long, long walk to Babylon.  When they arrived the splendor of the walls, the gates, or any building must have made their temple appear insignificant further demoralizing them.

     For the first time they came into direct contact with the Gnosis in one of its most active centers.  Thus, crushed militarily, in awe of the architecture and dwarfed intellectually the Jews were made to feel insignificant in their own eyes.  In effect they were thoroughly emasculated.  Who cannot feel their despair in Isaiah’s depiction of his fellows slinking along city streets thinking someday our roles will be reversed.  Someday we will be where you are now and you will be where we stand.  Is it any wonder that the Yahweh of the Pentateuch crashes around in a perpetual rage.

     And so the Jews created an alternative Gnosis that predicted just such a restitution.  They created a special God; this God made them his special people; he promised them dominion of the world.  He promised to reverse the situation.

     For centuries this silly doctrine had no real effect on the world.  But as the Jewish belief system was challenged by the Hellenic belief system the Jews in turn challenged the Greco-Roman world for dominance.  The result was the second kink in the Gnosis:  Christianity.

     Christianity took the Jewish notion of the Gnosis into the surrounding peoples which enabled the viewpoint to directly challenge the main stem of the Gnosis.  In the resulting struggle the narrow intolerant view of Judeo-Christianity was actually able to suppress and outlaw the main stem of Gnostic speculation.  The result was disastrous to the Jews who became a pariah people but their Semitism in the form of the Catholic Church dominated first the Mediterranean world and then Europe for millennia.

page 216.

     Over the years the Catholic Church accommodated the main stem of the Gnosis by adopting several of its tenets in a modified form.  The Isis and Osiris myth gained precedence in the persons of Mary and Jesus at the expense of the Jewish Father figure of Yahweh.  Reconsider Freud’s Totem And Taboo.  The Puritans adopted the savage Jewish form of the raging Yahweh thus subverting the main stem of the Gnosis in Catholicism.  The Christianity of the Bible Belt was formed on the insane Yahweh model rather than the Catholic version.

     The main stem of the Gnosis, this irratinal mode of thought, survived the suppression of Judeo-Catholicism surfacing and reorganizing in the wake of the French Revolution.  Eliphas Levi, a Frenchman who adopted a Jewish name, made the first reorganization of the Gnosis while Madame Blavatsky following him put it into the form under which it now exists in its many variants.

     But the scientific mode of thought which showed man’s advance from adolescence into adulthood emerged triumphant from the Great Revolution casting Gnostic thinking into an atavistic role.  Still the Gnostics, or Theosophists, as they are now generally known, were in a better position to confront Science than Judeo-Christianity.

page 217.

    In their modification of the Gnosis the Jews had their tribal god create the world approximately fifty-seven hundred years ago.  The Gnostic version deals with untold millions of years as with evolution.  Its doctrine of worlds and races of man allows it to adjust its doctrines to scientific discoveries.  Gnosticism does not have a static system whereas Judeo-Christianity does.  Thus as Science has progressively invalidated Judeo-Christian beliefs the two faiths have been driven deeper into a corner from which they cannot escape without abandoning their faith.  They therefore became cranky and crazy whereas Theosophic faiths are just spacey.

     Waco is preeminently Protestant Judeo-Christian.  Now one advantage of Judeo-Christianity is that when the world becomes too much for one, one can always immerse oneself in God in place of going absolutely insane.  God becomes a sort of retreat from reality.  Thus the mind instead of breaking bends beneath the weight sloughing the pain off into vague notions of universal love.  Once the source of irritation is removed the mind can recover.  Broken a mind may never be reclaimed.

     Thus, one Sunday morning Donn hit bottom moving out over the void.  He looked down and found he was suspended by an invisible thread.  Disco Don Contrales had found Jesus.

     He was walking down the street that Sunday with his encasted arms held up in front of his chest in a cross shape for comfort.  As he walked he passed a house from whence issued sounds from a phonograph.  He heard the song sung by Jesse Winchester, the greatest of the sad sack singers.

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     Jesse sang:

Live is just too short for some folks,

For other folks it just drags on.

Some folks like the taste of smoky whiskey,

Others think that tea’s too strong.

Now, I’m the kind of guy who likes to ride the middle,

I don’t like this bouncing back and forth.

Me,  I want to live with my feet in Dixie

And my head in the cool, blue North.

It ain’t…life ain’t nothing but a breeze.

     Well, it was a cold, chilly wind blowing all the way  from the Great Divide down Donn’s collar that Sunday.  His mind didn’t register the lyrics but the longing of the lyric agitated all the anxieties he felt.  Thus his mind was more or less prepped as he passed the Ancient Rock Of Ages Presbyterian Church.  As he stood on the corner waiting the the light to change the sound of one hundred eighty properous complacent voices wafted out like a zephyr on the cool morning air:

    Just a closer walk with thee,

O, Blessed Savior set me free.

       The voices had none of the wild ecstatic shouting of the Negro Gospel singing against their desperate plight but the calm reassuring tone of those secure in life and pleased with their place in society.  It was this promise of peace that drove Donn into the arms of the Lord.  Like a wave of hallejujahs from heaven the balm of love and forgiveness swept over Donn, not that he had much reason to love or forgive Maggie Spingold.  Suddenly standing in the bright light of his epiphany he knew that what he had to do was to get on the bus, return to Portland and beg Maggie’s forgiveness on his knees.  If he had to go to prison, so be it.  Down as he was in Texas he hoped to be up in Oregon.

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     The fervor of his conversion upon him, all his pain just a memory, Donn began his trip back to Portland, forearms held before him, the very next day.

VIII.

You Can’t Be Late For Your Own Movie.

     Donn’s sense of misery was swept away by the illuminating light of Jesus.  His pain disappeared as he lost himself in the wondrous love of the savior.  His heart was light as he boarded the bus to Portland to redeem himself with Maggie.  In his movie he saw himself apologizing to the Magus to be received with forgiving joy as a long lost love come home.  As he rode along with his encasted arms crossed before him he broke out into little bubbling laughter from time to time as he envisioned the reunion.

page 220.

     He maintained a state of bliss as the bus rolled across the beige tones of the Southwest into LA.  There he changed buses for Portland.  He had the misfortune to board a local.  Over the Grapevine to Bakersfield.  Then up I5 to Fresno.  In Fresno a man took the empty seat beside him.  Donn turned a beatific smile on him, his face shining.

     The man looked back; first with a distant but not unfriendly look, then his face set in a mask of frozen hostility.

     ‘This jerk is a Christian.’  Dean Long intuited.

     Dean Long was a militant athiest of the old school.  He hated anything that smacked of religion.  He knew all the tried and true diatribes against the Bible.  He could rant and roar about the preposterousness of the parting of the Red Sea and the Virgin Birth with the best of them.  He wasn’t educated in either mythology or Theosophy.  His whole argument was the standard rejection of miraculous events;  reason against superstition.

     However he was studied in Geology.  He read many many scientific journals.  He had developed an hypothesis on the Earth and Solar System.  This hypothesis, quite naturally, flatly contradicted the natural history of the Bible.  As religious people accept the Bible to the letter, and will even argue it so, this leaves them open to ridicule.

     Not unlike Screamin’ Big Daddy, The Mankato Kid, The Roving Gambler and many others Dean Long was frustrated by the censorship imposed on him by minorities.  Like the others this left him no recourse but to turn on his own kind.  In Dean Long’s case his victims were White Christian and Christianity.  In one of the great paradoxes of American society Genesis is a Christian text that can be ridiculed and reviled while as a Jewish text it cannot.  Thus the same heritage can be legitimately denied Christians while allowed Jews.

page 221.

     In the same manner a Jew can immerse a cross in a bottle of urine and display it as a work of art while if a goi were to immerse a Mogen David in the same solution it would be blasphemous and ‘anti-Semitic.’  Both cults were religions beneath the contempt of Dean Long but as one was above criticism to him he turned with redoubled savagery on the other.  Donn’s bliss was now to be shaken.

     ‘What are you so happy about?’  Long asked savagely.

     ‘I’ve found Jesus.’  Donn replied blissfully.

     Long’s internal satisfaction can’t be described.  It was somewhat like the Halcyon days of Greece sandwiched between two winter storms.

     ‘Ooooh.’ Long cooed with a deceptively approving smile.  ‘So, you’ve found Jesus, the great love man.’

     ‘Yes.  I’ve finally discovered his truth and it’s wonderful now, I don’t hurt anymore.’  Donn said turning his eyes upward, staring rapturously at the ceiling of the bus.

     ‘Ohhh- you’ve discovered the Truth, hey?  You take every little word from ‘the mouth of God’ as fact then?’

     Donn had merely gone crazy, accepted Jesus as his savior, but he hadn’t thought about the actual Bible.  He had rejected that as fable long ago but now he was caught with one foot on either side of the abyss unprepared to defend himself.

page 222.

     Long on his part knew the Bible through Methodist eyes.  He had considered study of the Bible and its milieu beneath his dignity.  Nor was he aware of the narrowness of his point of view.  He was completely unaware of how the Methodist understanding differed from the Catholic or Jewish.  For that matter he was unaware of differences of interpretation from Congregationalists through the Portestant sects down to the Southern Baptists.  In his mind God was God, that is, the Father.  Jesus assumed the role of dependent son while Mary was merely the woman who bore him.  The modified Goddess cult of the Catholics was unknown to him.  In fact, he unconsciously despised Catholicism from its rivalry with Methodism.  He had many many unresolved religious notions which he kicked under the table when he became an atheist.

     He now turned venomously  on Donn expressing his hatred of anything Christian.  ‘Well, I got news for you buddy, the world never was destroyed by water and it won’t be destroyed by fire.  What do you think of that?’

     Donn blinked.  While it was true he had rejected the Bible as fable he had also always accepted the received notion of the Flood and he uncritically received the notion that the world would next be destroyed by fire.  Like most of us he had never examined or analyzed the obvious contradictions in his mind.

     There was that in the vicious arrogance of Long that offended him deeply.  Had he not been in a mental fog he would have pushed Long back.  But now, his curiosity was aroused as the implication in Long’s statement had been that he did know how the world was going to end.

     ‘No fire?  How’s it going to end then?’  He mumbled.

     Long was ready.  His contempt for Christian Donn Contrales had no bounds, which by the way Christian was a new facet to the many faceted personality of Donn.     Long was essentially a coward but with both Donn’s arms in casts he was bolder and more savage in is rhetoric than he would have been with a hale Donn.

     ‘Well, this is a scientific explanation that won’t square with divine dispensation that you believe in but see if you can understand this.

     All is one, there is only one matter, but matter has many forms from gaseous clouds to huge incandescent masses like our sun and the stars.  Our solar system has examples of all forms.  the Earth and the Sun are identical in composition, as is the Sun and Mars and Uranus and Jupiter, as those planets are with Earth.  The Sun is incandescent solely because it is so huge that the forces of gravity heat it to incandescence.  Jupiter is gaseous because it is large enough that gravitational forces atomize it but aren’t strong enough to make it burn.

     Mars has no molten core because it is so small that gravitational pull is slight.  By a lucky accident for man the Earth is of such a size that the gravitational pull is strong enough to keep the core molten while allowing the crust to form.

      Uranus which is nearly twice as large as Earth is molten to the surface while the process of exuding an atmosphere is the same, Uranus is so far from the Sun that the gases freeze upon emission enveloping the planet in an ice crust.  The heat is so intense however that hot spots exist where the ice covering actually melts.

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     The Earth because of its much closer proximity to the Sun has developed a life allowing atmosphere which doesn’t freeze.  But this is merely an accident it has nothing to do with God.  There is no God.

     Are you capable of following the argument so far?’  Long asked arrogantly.

     Donn nodded yes.

     ‘Now, as to how the world will end.  The core is molten, the crust is hard.  The crust therefore slips around on the core.  Because the Earth is a ball floating in space, rotating from East to West the land mass will evntually all rise to the North.

     The mechanism for this is tectonic plates.  Don’t know tectonic plates?  Well as the crust rests on the core it isn’t strong enough not to fracture.  The crust is fractured into several large sections.  These sections are called tectonic plates.  They move in relation to each other.  For instance the North Pacific plate inches North every year.  The movement causes the Earthquakes around the Pacific Rim.  Along the edges are slip faults where the plates slide past each other.

     Where the North Pacific plate meets the Arctic Plate on the south coast of Alaska the North Pacific plate is subducted below the Arctic Plate.  As it does the Arctic Plate scrapes off large amounts of matter which accumulates in the Aleutians and the transverse mountain ranges of Alaska.  Now, if you look at the globe you’ll notice that the land mass makes a perfect circle around the pole.  This means that the land mass has moved as far North as possible.  Thus the Plane of the Ecleptic is about 24 degrees.  In other words the immense weight of the Northern land mass has toppled this rotating floating ball 24 degrees toward the Sun.

page 225.

     The East Coast of Africa is moving North as well as the North Pacific Plate.  Now, when the weight in the North becomes sufficient it will incline the North Pole even further toward the Sun.  As proof I offer Uranus, which because it is molten already has a pole inclined almost directly at the sun.

     So, you see, by a natural process this world will become uninhabitable, except for possibly a very narrow band, when the Earth inclines to say, 40 or 50 degrees.  So now what do you say about the end of the world, Christian?’

      Donn sat arms crossed eyeing Long askance.  Even if he had been able to deal with Long he wouldn’t have had the knowledge to either deny or affirm but in his crazed mental state he didn’t even have the power to assimilate what Long had said.  He said nothing, which infuriated Long.

     ‘Damn, I despise you Christians.’  He vituperated.  ‘You people are the epitome of ignorance.  Look at you.  You don’t even have what it takes to argue with me.  No, I know what you’re going to say; don’t say it.  You’re going to say God wouldn’t let that happen.  Fire perhaps, but not that.  Yeah, yeah, I know I can’t prove there isn’t a God, but you also can’t prove there is.  God, you disgust me.  You make me sick to my stomach.’

     Long made a retching noise.  At that time the bus pulled into the Modesto station.  Long was bound for Sacramento, but he made a dramatic gesture.

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     ‘You make me so sick I don’t even want to be on the same bus with you.  I’m getting off here.  I’ll catch the next bus into Sacto.  Goodbye and wise up, Christian.’

     Donn’s euphoria was shaken but was quickly reasserted.  He swung his feet up on the seat resolved to let no one else sit there.  No one did.  He was unmolested into Portland.

     Donn half expected the police to be waiting for him as the bus pulled into the Portland station.  The police weren’t there but one of the Old Boy agents provocateur watched Donn from a distance.  He needn’t have been so discreet because Donn totally absorbed in his resolve to contact Maggie wouldn’t have noticed him even if he had known him.  Even if Donn had known him and been spoken to he would only have gushed the love of Jesus all over the guy.

     Donn did not waste any time.  He immediately seized a phone in the bus station to call Maggie for an appointment to see him.  Maggie told him to come to his office the following morning at ten.

     Maggie showed up at his office at eight to begin to prepare for his triumph.  In his vanity he believed Donn was going to acknowledge his power.  That was Maggie’s movie.  Maggie’s office was very fine.

     There is a major difference between the offices of Jews and gois.  The goi office if nearly always plain, utilitarian and business like; just as on the average they dress with much less taste and expense than the Jews.

page 227.

     There is actually something almost barren in the goi approach.  A Jewish businessman always has objets d’ art to display his culture.  Very Freudian.  The office is always tastefully designed, probably by an interior designer.  The offices always contain religious symbols.  If one were to walk into a goi’s office to see Christian symbols one would immediately walk out.  Perhaps it is that Jewish religious symbols are less known to gois.  Maggie had a Mezusah beside the inside of the entrance to his office.  As with all Jewish businessmen he had built a religious shrine into the East wall of his office.  Often they are merely an arrangement indicating the Jewishness of the tenant.  Many are little alcoves built into the East wall.  Maggie’s was actually a little chapel big enough to contain a table and chairs for eight.  Against the curved back wall he had a large framed picture of Moses in his most raging pose; long flowing beard flying in the tempest; his mouth twisted in hatred.  A sculpture of the same pose sat on a table in front of the picture.  Between the two was a huge Menorah with seven massive sockets for candles.  Maggie signed all his documents and held all his serious discussions in this shrine under the watchful eyes of the wrathful Moses.  If you asked him what the alcove meant neither he nor nor any other Jew would tell you.  They would fob you off with vague mutterings and change the subject.

     Maggie meant to celebrate his triumph in the shrine.  He pulled the table and chairs out arranging them in front of the South wall of his spacious office.  The office itself was twelve hundred square feet, larger than many people’s houses.  Maggie’s massive ornately carved desk was against the West wall.  Five chairs were strung across its front.  As Maggie’s chair faced East he was always watching Moses over the shoulder of whoever he was talking to.

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     To supplement his huge desk a three foot wide shelf stretched from the windows on the North to the entrance of his complete bathroom on the South.  The toilet was in black marble with gold fixtures.  In itself it was eight feet by twenty; it would have made a magnificent bedroom in any teenager’s house.  If you were sufficiently important to Maggie he would allow you to urinate in his toilet, otherwise he sent you down the hall.

     Just inside the entrance was a large oak chair.  It was so huge and ornate with what appeared to be cabalistic symbols carved in its crown that it seemed incongruous beside the bathroom wall.  The chair was on casters.  Maggie now rolled the monstrous thing to the back of the shrine in front of the Menora and the two representations of the insane Moses.  The chair wasn’t actually a chair, it was a throne.  Maggie believed he was from the line of King David.  He put a little footstool in front of it, fluffed a couple pillows and placed them carefully on the throne.  Then he leaped up, bounced up and down a couple times smiling gleefully in anticipation  of a perfect morning.

      Then he took a shower.  He scented himself all over with a scent of Frankencense and Myrrh, took off his wig of golden straight hair and placed a curly one on his head.  The effect was somewhat like a senescent Orphan Annie.  He put on a white linen top, placing a gorgeous blue robe with gold bordering on top of that.  He tied it closed with a silken gold cord.  He modeled for himself in the full length mirror.  Aw, beautiful, he thought.

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     As has been said Maggie was a nickname for Magus, a belief in himself which he had carefully cultivated.  Maggie had done a fair amount of reading but he certainly was not at the adept level.  Besides he perverted the Gnosis for his own personal needs.

     He had developed a rationale for his homosexuality which made him, in his eyes, a part of the godhead.  The Gnosis is an immense and diverse body of religious speculation.  The Jewish contribution of the Kabbalah and Zohar is but a small fragment.  Under the Judeo-Catholic suppression the Gnostic sects were much more influential among Europeans than they are now that the Catholic censorship has been is ineffectual.  Since the Revolution the Gnosis has blossomed once again in America to the vigor it enjoyed before the Judeo-Christian suppression in Europe.

     Among the versions of the Gnosis the problem of sex is treated in various ways.  But the thinking is that the godhead is neuter.  Thus in its first emanation it becomes the Universal Androgyne or, in other words, it is bi-sexual in the sense of participating in the attributes of each sex.  From there it evolves in the second emanation into the concept of distinct male-female duality.

page 230.

     Maggie had no patience with the genetic explanation of homosexuality and he totally rejected environmental causes.  He saw himself as the Universal Androgyne.  He actually believed himself a part of the godhead.  He had been married forty years and did have a son who he had exiled to Boston.  He hadn’t had relations with his wife since the conception of his son.  He had thereby satisfied his the bi-sexual aspects of his beliefs and given himself an adequate cover.  The rest of his life had been devoted to satisfying his homosexual lusts.

     He mounted his throne to await his triumph which was five minutes away.

     Donn walked, almost ran, in his eagerness to reach Maggie’s office so that he could tell the joyful news of his redemption and beg Maggie for his forgiveness.  He entered the swinging doors of the Miriam Building.  Miriam was the name of Maggie’s wife while she thought he had considerately named the building after her.  Miriam was also the name of the wife of Moses.

     Donn stepped into the elevator ecstatically touching the lighted space for the fifteenth floor with his little finger.  Already in an excited frame of mind his brain spun uncomprehendingly as the elevator sank to the basement rather than rising.  As the doors parted Donn stepped between them his head spinning to look out into the varius bric-a-brac stored in the basement.  Three men smiled sardonically at him; one was cleaning a revolver, one was honing the blade of a knife while the other was taking practice swings with a baseball bat.

     The doors began closing and opening as the rubber bumpers retracted from his shoulders.  Slowly Donn realized where he was; he stepped back quickly into the elevator allowing the doors to close.  His ecstasy was somewhat shaken.  It would be hours before Donn realized the warning.  As for now he didn’t even realize that the elevator whisked him non-stop to the fifteenth floor without his having pushed a space.  Maggie was showing off his power.

 page 211.

     Donn was greeted by Maggie’s secretary, Ann Powers.  The tone of cold condescension was almost more than Donn could bear.  Donn knew of Ann.  She had been with Maggie for fifteen years.  The relationship was so close that many thought she served as Maggie’s mistress.  But Donn knew, as the Homo Network knew, that Ann was merely what is called a fag hag.  She enjoyed being around homos because she wanted to be around men but she was incapable of having relations with them.

     Through pursey lips and cold eyes she indicated an ashtray containing several checks.  Donn thought she was indicating a chair and sat down to wait.

     At the time it was customary for well-to-do hot shots to show their contempt for money by placing several hundred dollars bills in a receptacle in plain view in their living rooms.  The notion was that they could well afford to lose the hundred dollar bills if you were so contemptible as to take them.

     Donn had had a laugh at an acquaintance of his who had done the same with dollar bills.  The connection between the money and the checks lying across the ashtray was too distant for him to make the connection.  Actually Maggie was taking less of a chance than the guy with the dollar bills; the checks would have been difficult to negotiate and easy to replace.

page 232.

     ‘Look at Mr. Spingold’s checks that he just leaves lying around so casually.’  Ann said exuding heavy respect as she pronounced what was to her the sacred name.

     Donn was in no condition to shuffle through them so Ann held them before his eyes one by one.  They were dividend checks.  To show his contempt for, or perhaps lack of need, of money there were checks from AT&T for three successive quarters for six thousand and change each.  An IBM check for eight thousand plus and a couple UNB checks for a couple thousand.  When Donn had acknowledged them Ann, her eyes shining triumphantly indicated the door with her long middle finger meaning Donn could enter the august presence.  Athe same time she pressed a buzzer to alert Maggie to prepare himself.

     As Donn stepped through the doorway the door clicked shut as if by magic.  Turning in surprise Donn saw the Mezusah but not knowing what it was he didn’t rub it.  There was a sort of foyer leading into the main room.  Entering the room Donn looked eagerly behind the desk.  As there was no one there his eyes searched the room to find Maggie seated on his throne in the alcove.  Maggie resplendent in blue, white and gold was sitting head tilted to the left leaning lightly on his arm his middle finger forming a dimple in his cheek a la Shirley Temple.

     ‘Well, Donn,’ he said gazing with satisfaction at the pitiful figure before him, ‘How have you been?’

     ‘Oh, Ed, I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.’

     ‘Really, Donn?  How’s that?’

page233.

     ‘Oh, Eddie, the most wonderful thing has happened.  I’ve taken Jesus Christ as my personal savior.  I’ve found the forgiving grace of the Lord.  Through him I’ve been born again.  I’ve got you to thank for my redemption.  If I had let you in that night I would never have found Christ’s love.  Still, I know how rude I was and I’ve come in Jesus’ name to ask your forgiveness.  Say you will, Eddie.  Say you will.’  Donn ended somewhat breathlessly, his face aglow with what can only be presumed to be the divine love of Jesus.

     ‘Oh, you’ve found Jesus.’  Said this scion of the Anti-Defamation League, this pillar of support for the American Jewish Committee.  ‘You’ve found Jesus.’  He repeated distastefully his anger and resentment mounting.

     ‘Don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself, Donn.  You’ve put an end to your own suffering by finding salvation in Jesus.  Well, what about me?  What about my suffering?  Do have any idea how much it hurts to lay your precious love at another man’s feet and he won’t even open his door, at the very least, to dismiss you?  Do you have any idea how much you made poor little Eddie Spingold suffer- O self-important Disco Donn Contrales?  I, Eddie Spingold, came to your door to offer my love while you hunt around garbage cans behind discos looking for God only knows what kind of contemptible affection.’

     Maggie had gone into a pout, twitching his earring.  He looked up at the picture of the demonic Moses beard flying in the hurricane, mouth distorted as he hurled what?  Imprecations at the boiling clouds of the raging Jehovah of the Dark Sky?  Eyes bulging Moses glared into cloud cuckoo land at the God of a Thousand Names in the Land of a Single Dance.

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     Maggie went on.  ‘And now you who have suffered nothing in comparison to mine, Donn Contrales, you come back and tell me that you have excaped suffering in your Jesus while the wounds of me, Eddie Spingold, are open and bleeding?  Well, it won’t be that easy Mr. Disco Donn Contrales.’

     Maggie turned his head petulantly to the right fingering his ring and pouting in the general direction of Yahweh of the Dark Sky.

     ‘Oh, Ed, I know, I know.’  Donn said in the emotinal delerium of his religious and sexual quagmire.  ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I did you wrong.’  Donn continued, gleaming white casts crossed before him as he got down on knees before Maggie.  Donn, a disciple of the God with one name in the Land of a Thousand Dances.

     ‘I’ll do anything Ed, anything I can to correct my error.’

     ‘Well,’ said Maggie flipping his gown open.  He was a real blonde.  ‘See if you can raise that man from the dead.’

     Donn did as he was bidden and indeed, lo and behold Lazarus arose from the tomb.

     And then Donn took the seed of death into his body for the seed of death was in Maggie.  At this time the AIDS virus was throwing a terror into the homosexual community.  The epidemic was reaching its apex in media attention.  Dire reports were being broadcast that within ten years or by the turn of the century incalculable millions, both hetero and homosexual would have to meet the dark visaged boatman.  While the heterosexual world considered AIDS a homosexual problem the news media obligingly prophesied that not  only homosexuals but millions perhaps tens of millions of heterosexuals would die too.  It was never explained how heterosexuals would contract the disease in such numbers except through the dirty needles of heroin addicts and blood transfusions.  Thus the news media gave the impression that homosexuality, heroin use and blood transfusions from homosexual contributors were universal problems not just problems confined to distinct minorities of the population.

page 235.

     When the term homosexuals is used one thinks only of the priss down on the corner but AIDS threw real terror in those immensely successful and rich men who saw not only their pleasures curtailed but terminated permanently.  A chill breeze blew down the halls of Congress.

     Presently, well after the turn of the century, the problem appears to be not even close to what was predicted.  Tens of millions haven’t died, heterosexuals are unaffected.  The concept of unbridled sex has however been extended down to the grade schools.  Something has been accomplished anyway.

     Maggie was used to making many trips to San Francisco to indulge his passions.  There in the early days of the emergence of the disease he had contracted it.  The period of incubation was over.  The disease had been active for three months.  Maggie knew he had the disease but like so many others he believed that if he had it, others ought to have it too.  Why should he suffer alone.  He, nevertheless, did not advise Donn that he had been exposed.

page 236.

     ‘Well, Maggie,’  Donn began, arms still crossed against his chest, presumptuously believing that he had made things right, ‘I’m glad you have forgiven me.  Because now I’ll to go to jail on that pornography charge when the police pick me up because I just don’t have the money to defend myself.  But at least I’ll feel better knowing that things are mended between we two.’

     ‘Not so fast, Donn.  Did I say I’d forgiven you?  I think you have much more penance to do.  But as a token of my good will I know a little about those ridiculous charges against you.  I’ve always believed that they were trumped up.  I’ll talk to the District Attorney to see just what evidence they have against you.  You will give me your word that you are innocent, won’t you?’  Maggie was a consummate actor and an accomplished liar.

     ‘Oh, Ed, as Jesus is my savior, I swear I knew nothing about it.  They just told me I had this package and I only took it for that reason.  I had no idea, Ed.  I promise.’

     ‘I belive you, Donn.’  Maggie said with a confidence born of true conviction.  ‘I believe that someone did set you up.  Well, you’ll need a job to support yourself, I suppose?’

     ‘Oh, yes, sure.  I’ll go down and talk to Mingo.  I’ll get my old job back now that you’re behind me.’  And Porsche he unconsciously added to himself.

     ‘Oh, no.  I don’t think that’s possible Donn.  Especially since you’re still under a cloud of suspicion.  But, I’ll tell you what.  I know a lot of influential people.  Oh, say, do you know Louis d’ Angeli?  He owns a whole string of service stations.  I’m sure I can get you a job pumping gas.

page 237.

     ‘Pumping gas?  Oh, Ed, I…’

     ‘Well, Donn, you’re going to have to keep a low profile while I’m dealing with District Attorney Naro.  This is for the best, trust me.  Besides you still have to expiate your sin against me.  Don’t forget how I’ve suffered.’

     Fifty percent of Donn’s religious conversion had fled with Maggie’s statement that he could get the charges quashed, so he was somewhat reluctant to take the pump jockey job.  Yet, as he was unaware that there were no charges, he thought it best to go along with Maggie.

     At the time there were four stations at the corner of Scholl’s Ferry and Hall.  Two of the four were owned by D’Angeli.  Donn was made to buy his uniform and installed in one of them.  The job may have been low profile but the location was not.  The corner was one of the busiest in the Portland area.  It  controls the approach to the Washington Square Shopping Mall.  All of West Portland passes through on the way to shop.  In fact, Donn was Maggie’s prize and he was on display.

     Donn was at the mercy of all of his enemies.  A single ‘Filler ‘er up, Boy.’ was enough to destroy his day.  When someone like Shakey Jake from the Disco Deep Elum drove up on a motor scooter, belched in his face, ordered a gallon of gas while proceeding to berate and belittle him, Donn was quite beside himself.  The great Disco Donn, the ex-eminent local music critic led a most miserable existence.

page 238.

     Donn protested to Maggie who advised him to keep a ‘low profile’ while Maggie quashed the charges.  In the meantime Donn was required to participate in humiliating sex relations with Maggie and his friends.  Most were very high up in the social hierarchy.  It was among them that Donn for the first time began to realize how corrupt society actually is.  He overheard bits and pieces and some whole conversations that revealed many secrets to him.  Certain bits and pieces of humor at his expense gradually opened to him a correct idea of who had set him up.  Gradually he grasped that the big joke was that no charges had existed against him since he had left town.

     This truth, when he realized it, savaged his mind right and left while it seemed that he had been kicked in the stomach.  He had a burning desire to confront Maggie with the information.  But while he was at the beck and call of Maggie, Maggie was capable of seeing him at his own will.  Maggie, who well knew the purpose behind Donn’s repeated calls refused to come to the phone.  To torture Donn more he had his hours increased at the service station so that Donn was working twelve hours a day seven days a week.

     Nevertheless, Donn caught him early one morning.  Donn expressed his anger and resentment.  He ended by telling Maggie that he could take the service station job and shove it.  Maggie listened with a bemused expression on his face then calmly informed Donn that he had indeed set him up, what could be done once could be done twice.  Donn as a repeat offender could expect little mercy from the court.  He added further that he was still suffering from Donn’s rejection of him.  He didn’t think that Donn had yet expiated his sin against him.  He added that Donn could quit if he wanted but he could be sure that he would only find the job Maggie wanted him to find or none at all.  With a sweet smile Maggie reminded him of the tribulations Donn had suffered the last time he had taken flight.  Maggie advised Donn to stay patiently on the job.  Perhaps something better might come up, Maggie didn’t know.

page 239 

     Donn realized the powerlessness of his situation.  He went into a state of mental shock.  His color drained.  His lips formed a thin narrow line.  He turned slowly to get in his car looking back scowlingly as he did so.  Maggie smiled him a wan smile, shrugging his shoulders.

     Business is a tough way to make a living.  There is no one to go your wages.  Your life style can only be supported from your continuing profits.  No matter how good it looks from the outside those profits are tenuous.  There are constant reverses, drains and damages.  A business requires constant on hands management no matter how the owner may kick at his responsibilities.  Real Estate people like Maggie are constantly everextended as they attempt to multiply their holdings on bank loans as rapidly as possible.  Few businesses can be done other than on OPM.

     The period under consideration was one of severe economic downtown.  Commercial vacancies were high.  In addition to business problems it is common to speculate in the stock market.  Most of Maggie’s investments were sound but he also pursued all the fantasies of Wall Street.  Many of these went sour in a big way.  Overall Maggie in these years was a net loser rather than an accumulator.

page 240.

     Illicit business has a greater profit margin, while losses can be better anticipated.  As illicit business requires police protection to exist, people like Maggie are in a very good position to arrange things.  Thus the drug business was managed on a share basis.  The dealers were unmolested while the major share of their profits went to the Combination.  The only drug busts that occurred involved freelancers and Wild Boys.

     In addition the massage parlors and porn shops provided a steady cash income.  Since the massage parlors were usually in neighborhoods there was very active opposition to them from the residents.  Eventually, as in this period, active citizenry was able to close them down.  They would of course survive and emerge in a different form.

     So that Maggie was able to sustain his life style, support his wife’s rather extravagant needs and those of his distant son, he needed this illicit cash regardless of business conditions.

     As it happened the porn shops in town were under Jewish control.  The main one was in the Oldtown area- The Pink Prowler.  Maggie and his fellows always hired a goi to front for them as manager.  As they treated them badly the managers always rebelled, cleaned out the till and really headed South to the fleshpots of Vegas, Reno and LA.  The most recent of these departees had set up in Vegas leaving the Prowler managerless.

page 242.

     Maggie was certainly intelligent but it didn’t take a great big flash of inspiration to suggest Donn as the man’s successor.  Maggie summoned Donn to apprise him of the good news of his release from the service station to a more ‘executive’ position.

     The ravages of AIDS were showing on Maggie, Donn knew that AIDS had been transmitted to him.  Maggie’s formerly plump little face was becoming thin and drawn.  Donn was watching this with a quiet rage.  He was honoring the code by keeping quite.  Maggie now outraged and enraged Donn beyond the limits of exasperation.

     Donn had always had a seething resentment at the nature of the charges against him.  Although they were not far from the truth Donn was only involved in a particular form of pornography which he had intellectualized into, shall we say, an ‘art’ form.  He did not consider his tastes as being the illicit kind.  He distanced himself from the object.  Porn shops were quasi-illicit.  Running one was degrading.  One was completely outside polite society; Donn still cherished hopes of gaining re-entry.

     Thus when Maggie explained the nature of the opportunity Donn threw caution to the winds.

     ‘Goddamn you, Maggie.  I’ve got AIDS because of you and just like you I’m dying.  You don’t have more than a year or two left.  What are you going to tell people Maggie, that you’re a fucking faggot with evil habits or that you died of ‘pneumonia.’  You don’t want anyone to know you’re queer do you, Maggie?  They’d all sneer up their sleeves and say they always knew- even though they don’t see anything wrong with you.  You know how fags turn on their own, don’t you, Maggie?  How is it, Maggie, that we think homosexuality is legit but everyone is destroyed by it when it becomes known.  Hell, you don’t even have to be queer.  Look at what you did to Earl Shaddai.  You know what kind of posthumous reputation you’ll have when the world know, Maggie?  Shit!’

page 242.

     ‘Donn, I would advise you to consider your words.  Or…’

     ‘Or what, Maggie?  You’ll kill me.  You already have.  I’m a dead man.  You’re a dead man too, Maggie.

     ‘Your end could be comfortable Donn, or…’

     ‘Did you hear me, Maggie?  Take a look at these.’  Donn threw a sheaf of pictures at Maggie which would leave no doubt in the viewer’s mindof Maggie’s sexual preferences.

     ‘Yes.  I snuck these pictures of you and you’re going to be known as a fucking faggot who knowingly spreawd death unless I get mine.  They aren’t going to name any streets after you, Maggie, my man.’

     Maggie disdainfully flipped through the telltale photographs.  He didn’t want the world to know he was homosexual and more importantly that he had knowingly spread the disease.  He hadd intended to leave the notice that he died of ‘pneumonia.’  He did want a street named after him.  He shrugged his shoulders at Donn as though to say:  What’s the holdup.

     ‘I’ll tell you what I want Maggie and you’re going to give it to me or else.  I want my old apartment back just exactly like it was before you destroyed it.  I want my Porsche…’  He sobbed at the memory of the scene on the highway in Washington.  ‘And I want two hundred fifty thousand cash and my medical bills paid.  Or else.’

page 243.

     Maggie pursed his lips, looked coyly askance at Donn with chin down then flirtatiously flipped his chin up.  His busy mind was devising ways to stall Donn at minimum cost.  He would cheat Donn beyond the grave if he could.

     ‘Or else, Maggie.’

     ‘I guess you’ve forgotten my name is Mr. Spingold?’  Maggie arched, suddenly realizing Donn had been calling him that derogative appellation, Maggie.

     ‘Shut up, you old fairy queen.  Give me what I want or else.’

     Now it was Maggie’s turn to shudder at the necessity of receiving humiliation.  A thin film of perspiration covered his forehead, foam flecked his lips.

     ‘Hmmm.   Give me some time Donn, dearest.’

     ‘Now, Maggie, now.  Now! Now! Now! Write me a check.  Get me my apartment.  Call up now and buy a Porsche for me.  Right now! Or else when I walk out of here these pictures are going to be showing up all over town.’

     Maggie most seriously did not want to go down as a socially negligent homosexual who had infected God knows how many other men.  No matter what the justification of homosexuality, homosexuals despised themselves as inferiors.  Only the desperate advertised their homosexuality.  Maggie waffled.  As one of the walking dead he knew that it would be impossible to offset the charges.  His power on earth was already a shadow of itself as knowing eyes apprised his imminent demise.  Maggie’s nature was not to give in.

page 244.

     ‘Now, Maggie, now.  The Porsche.’

     Maggie reluctantly called to order Donn a Porsche.  That done Donn gave Maggie instructions and warnings.  He advised Maggie that he would be at is office every morning at ten to check on his progress.  Maggie gave Donn a check for then thousand which he said was all he had in his account.  He was half lieing. 

     The fear of expose gripped Maggie’s mind.  He very reluctantly fulfilled Donn’s demands but the did.  The tenant of Donn’s old apartment was turned out souring her outlook on life.  The apartment was restored as closely as possible.  Although it was impossible to replace all the records Donn insisted on a clean import copy of ‘Interstellar Overdrive.’

     Maggie was very reluctant to settle the quarter million on Donn Donn threatened and bullied.  He finally hit on the right formula by threatening to reveal the real Maggie Spingold after his death.  Maggie was terrified at the thought of being known as a pederast and what in subsequent years would be treated as willful murder.  Maggie had knowingly passed AIDS on to at least two dozen men.

     Thus Maggie passed the threshold of the great mystery of death to await the great gittin’ up morning when he would return from the other side in his full glory.  Maggie had his remains buried in Isreal in preparation for the great event.

page 245.

     Donn’s will to life had been quashed by the events of the preceding two or three years.  He no longer took delight in anything.  The Porsche sat in the parking lot month after month as Donn lay around his apartment.  His spirit was gone, he made no attempt to resist the ravages of the disease.  He sought no medical help.  He just sat and waited.

     Then, on one very fine spring morning as the sun peeked through his open window, Donn’s body went limp as he lay in bed.  His soul departed.  It fled through the open window into the glorious sunshine.  Disco Donn Contrales was no more but the world had not yet done with him.  While Donn had kept his owrd and not revealed the nature of Maggie’s disease, Maggie, seeking the last word in vengeance as his kind always does, reached from beyond the grave to smear Donn.

     As arranged beforehand the Daily Assassin used Donn as the centerpiece for an article on the perils of AIDS.  Before and after pictures were displayed.  It was believed that Donn had contracted the disease in his notorious sexual pranks among the garbage cans behind the now defunct Disco Deep Elum.  The disco had died with the AIDS epidemic also.  As the capstone of the article a posthumous pleas for tolerance and understanding of these unfortunate victs of hideous disease was printed from the king of altruists, Edward G. Spingold after whom a street had recently been named.

     The era was over.    

    

    

 

Disco Donn Demands Deliverance

by

R.E. Prindle

Part II-4

     The Gambler looked over at Donn to see if his story made the impression he wanted.  The story wasn’t bad, it was even entertaining if you weren’t over critical but Donn didn’t believe the Gambler had talked to a live Elvis.  He just shook his head and said:  First that, now this.’

     The Gambler realized his mistake.  He should have known that Donn wouldn’t be like the ignorant buffoons gathered in the jungles under bridges.  Why hadn’t he advanced the story as a theory instead?

     The Gambler cleared his throat.  ‘First what?’ He enquired.

     ‘Aw,’ Donn said, ‘I ran into this crazy guy, shadow boxing his life away, talking about how there’s no difference between Nazi Germany, Russia and here.’

     ‘Oh, you met the Mankato Kid, did you?  He’s near?  Hmm, yes, well, I taught him everything he knows you know.  Did he go on about Holly Grove, Ludlow?  Yes.  When he first met me he didn’t have a rationale, a story; he was just prancing around the edge trying to keep from falling in.  I saved him; kept him from losing it completely.

     His is truly a tragic life.  he is an innocent decent guy who was victimized by a whole town.  He was pursued by the elite while the rest of the town turned their backs on him.

     Like most people rather than retaliating on his enemies he turned their venom on himself, internalized it, made himself the guilty party, so to speak.  Hence you see him circling the town pounding away at the air, punching out his internalized enemies; hysterically trying to punch his way out of the bag he’s in.

page 151.

     I researched the situation.  What he should have done, I think it’s too late now, was either kill one of them or kill a child or grandchild or two.  Thus the vengeance would have relieved the strain while teaching his enemies the lesson they needed to be taught.’

     ‘Yeah, but who wants to go to jail for the rest of their lives?’

     ‘My god, man, don’t be so crude.  We aren’t talking the insanity of Richard Speck or Charlie Whitman, we’re talking the same kind of discretion the Kid’s enemies used when they killed his father.  The killings would appear accidental of course, goes without saying.  That’s the way it’s done in polite society.  Elvis should have had a couple of them offed too.  He was big enough to get away with it.  Would have made him feel better and they would have made room for him.  That’s the only thing that sort of people respect.’

     The Gambler looked over at Donn’s feet.  ‘Say, those are very nice shoes.   Ferragamos?’

     ‘Yes. Yes, they are.’

     ‘Pretty fancy footwear for a knight of the road.  Hey?’

     ‘I like nice things.’  They both chuckled appreciatively.

     ‘Yes.’ Said the Gambler who believed he hadn’t yet impressed Donn with his verbal wizardry.  The night was still young in his eyes and he could talk forever.  He had entertained the homeless for seven or eight hours at a stretch.  He eyed Donn up and down, then shrewdly hit a topic that made Donn’s eyes light up.

     The Gambler was a learned man.  He had actually spent more time in the stacks of America’s best libraries than- one hesitates to say any- most professors.  He studied with system.  He actually had written several hundred pages of universal history which he had secreted in sheaves among the hidden recesses of the various libraries.  He was a knowledgeable man.  What he is about to tell Donn was factually true, whether one chooses to accept his interpretation of the facts is one’s own business.

     ‘History moves along at a very rapid pace.  Too rapid for we mere men to grasp its significance as it happens.  There are too many interested parties to obscure the facts, turn them to their own benefit.  Everyone want to rearrange the facts, change them to suit their own needs and prejudices.  They want to revise history to reflect their own fantasies.  They want to conceal their own criminal deeds while exhibiting those of others.

     Thus all ideologues become obstructionists to the true understanding of reality.  This is no more evident than in the study of the history of Adolf Hitler.’

     The Gambler noted that Donn’s eyes lit up at the mention of Hitler.  He’d struck paydirt.  The Gambler warmed to his subject.

     ‘That Hitler was one of the most destructive conquerors- perhaps the most, but that’s a qualitative judgment- in History needs no affirmation.  The facts speak for themselves, as they usually do.  But let us consider the recieved opinion that Hitler was an aberration, that somehow he stands outside the worst standards of human conduct.  I  tell you frankly, Donn that relegating him to that role places an obstacle in the path of comprehending history that is insurmountable.  My writings are undertaken to demonstrate that not only is Hitler in the tradition of great conquerors, albeit, perhaps, the most destructive, but that his behavior is an aspect of the personality of each and everyone of us.  Yes, there is no escaping psychology.  Hitler did nothing that any of us wouldn’t do if we thought we had the ability to escape retribution.

page 153. 

 Now, this holds for all peoples.  There are no innocents.  Freud tells the story of Heine who painted this idyllic picture of what would satisfy him and at the end desired his enemies to be hanging from trees in front 0f him.  I am happy to forgive my enemies, Heine said with Freud quoting approvingly, but only after they have been hanged.  There you see, the main problem to understanding Hitler and the whole period is, of course, the Jews.  As unpleasant a fact as it may be they are omnipresent throughout European history.  In many ways their virtual annihilation destroyed four thousand years of hopes and dreams.  I think, although I can’t prove it that it shook their hopes of Messianic redemption to the ground.  Quite clearly their God tested them too severely for no apparent purpose.  The net result of the period seems to be that the Euroamericans have brought them under control again as before emancipation.  The disciplining that the Jews escaped by the Emancipation of the French Revolution and which resulted in the two Great Wars seems to have been reimposed or is being reimposed.  The expropriation of the Rothschilds by the French was a significant act.

    In any event, as what is actually a rear guard action, the Jews are doing their uttermost to prevent an objective examination of the period.  Their 614th commandment is not to allow Hitler posthumous victory.  On the one hand they deny their own implication while denouncing Nazis to the uttermost.

page 154.

     I mention the Jews, Donn, because History, Western History, cannot be understood without understanding their role in it.  To discuss the Jewish role objectively is to, not only leave oneself open to charges of anti-Semitism, but inescapably to be so.  The truth is anti-Semitic.  I am no an anti-Semite, which is different from anti-Semitism.  To the victor belongs the spoils. But that inevitably means that the losers are despoiled.  Unfortunately for the Jews their historical role has been that of the losers.  A habit of four thousand years is unlikely to be broken soon.

      But, back to my point.  How were Hitler’s actions aberrant?  Man has always destroyed what was in his way.  There are indications that when primitive man disputed a plain with herbivores he merely stampeded them over cliffs to get rid of them.  I am not such a sentimentalist that I make a great distinction between herbivores and homo sapiens.  Specially, it is almost certain that Cro-Magnon man exterminated the Neanderthals.  There are sentimentalists that say that the two species were assimilated but in the light of the activities of historical man this seems highly improbable to me.

     There is a great deal of wisdom in the saying:  The child is father to the man.  So, certainly Hitler’s actions are in accord with his primitive ancestors.

     Out of a wealth of examples you do understand that I must necessarily be selective.  After all as Gibbons put it, history is little more than a recitation of the crimes and follies of mankind.  Who am I to dispute with the master?

     While the Bible was at one time universally believed to be true, modern scholarship casts doubt on the accuracy of the whole Bible.  I myself believe it to be a work of fiction, and not expecially good fiction, which manipulates  what might be facts into a coherent whole serving the needs of the Jewish people.  None of it is to be believed as history.  Nevertheless if fiction is to be believable it must be based on probable occurrences, or even actual occurrences conveniently arranged.

     Thus when the Jews state that when they invaded Canaan they exterminated man, woman and child of the inhabitants of numerous cities to make lebensraum for themselves the story is plausible.  So, the ‘inventors of morality’ are no different than the rest of mankind.  One may also include these murders under the heading of genocide.  Not only is mass murder common but so is genocide.  What could be more natural?

     In addition to the race wars the extermination of peoples can be extended to ideological differences.  As chance would have it the first great ideological war involves the Jews.  As a matter of fact the Jews are unavoidably the ferment of Western History in any age or place.  It is just so.  It can’t be denied.  They must needs be discussed.  The remarkable thing is that entire volumes of history are written without even mentioning Jewish involvement except perhaps a passage lamenting an inexplicable anti-Semistism.  A recent history of Germany by Hajo Holborn scarcely mentions the Jews.  Incredible, what?

     While Judaism has always been an ideology it doesn’t appear to have taken definite shape as such until confronted by the Hellenic ideology fostered by the conquests of Alexander.  While the rest of the world embraced Hellenism, the Jews rejected it.

page 156.

     To be sure a portion of the nation was attracted to Hellenism but this merely set in motion the crisis of the ancient world.  The Jewish Hellenists being the weaker party called their Hellenistic masters to their aid. 

     The conservative element resisted the imperial government bringing on the War of the Maccabees which resulted in the independence of Israel against the Hellenic Empires.  Now, Donn, much of this interpretation is disputed so if you have any objections, just say so. 

     The Jews, at this point, must have believed that as they were not to be allowed their ideology undisturbed that it was incumbent on them to conquer.  Their manpower was insufficient for this so they had to recruit more.  As the wish is father to the deed they made war on their southern neighbors, the Idumaeans.  Having conquered them they forcefully circumcised their little wee-wees, so the story goes.  This pretty effectively made the Idumaeans Jews albeit, sullen Jews.

     But this was a pretty ineffective way of adding to the population and I’m sure the backlash was more than they were prepared for.  After all, Roman law classed circumcision with emasculation and forbade both.

     The Jews then embarked on a course which they had never employed before and have never employed since.  They set about a serious course of proselytization or converting non-Jews to Judaism.  Now, Donn, we’re getting into areas that you have to study hard to get at the facts.  Much of this information while harmless in itself, is willfully concealed by society.  As a young history student we were all warned away from studying it.  We were told, in so many words, that we would be dropped if we pursued the topic.

page 157.

     The Jews were remarkably successful.  By  the time of Augustus, which coincides with the birth of Jesus, which may or may not be a coincidence, they were firmly established throughout the Empire.  They were making converts, which involved circumcision, at a quick step pace.  Plus their ideology was strange enough to enlist sympathizers who stood between Judaism and Paganism called ‘God-fearers.’

     Jerusalem served as a counter capitol to Rome as Judaism formed an actual empire within the Empire.  Every professing Jew was required to send a half shekel to Jerusalem once a year.  If they all complied, and there were millions in the Roman Empire then millions of shekels went to Jerusalem every year.  Thus, one has an interesting historical problem which no one has ever addressed.  What happened to those millions per year?  What were they used for?  Fomenting sedition perhaps?

     The two ideologies were locked in mortal combat.  Now this was also a time of extreme Gnostic religious fermentation.  Impossible Gnostic beliefs rose to the pinnacle of impossibility.  It is not my purpose to go into these beliefs but suffice it to say they all found expression in the person of Jesus the Christ.  Now, while the Jews of the empire sent their half shekel tax to Jerusalem they refused to pay the Emperor his taxes.  The story becomes more familiar.  In the Jewish mind they were obligated only to God, not to the Empire.  I think you can see the emerging problem.

     Jesus tried to cut this Gordian knot by saying:  Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s and unto God that which is God’s.  In other words he was trying to effect a compromise, separating the spiritual kingdom from the temporal kingdom.  There would still be an empire within the Empire but one would be spiritual and not in conflict with the temporal.  Peacemakers were as little thought of then as they are today.  The Nazz was crucified.  All that remained was for the war to break out.  Which of course, it did.

     The Jews fully expected all Jews throughout the Empire, interestingly enough they called it the Evil Empire, to rise up and slaughter the non-Jews.  Their goal was simply to exterminate all the non-Jews.  Do you imagine that the program has been changed?  And Hitler is thought to have been an evil man.  Think of it!  The Jews were certainly less than twenty percent of the population but they were going to exterminate the rest.

     While there was Jewish unrest throughout the Empire the actual war was confined to Palestine.  In 70 AD Jerusalem was conquered and razed.  But the Millennial frenzy was on the Jews.  They wouldn’t give up.

     The Dead Sea Scrolls uncovered a document called the War Between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness.  Some say it is allegorical but the real war closely followed the blueprint the document offered.  The Jews were, of course, the Sons of Light.  The war was to begin in the South and then spread North.

     In the sixty-five years following 70 AD that is exactly the course of the actual war except that the war didn’t progress too far North.  In 116-18 the Jews of Africa- Cyrene, Egypt and Cypress attempted to exterminate their neighbors.  The war was fanatical but they were suppressed only to flare up again in the Bar Kokhba rebellion which ended in the virtual extermination of the Jews.  The exasperated Romans could take no more.

page 159.

     Thus Hitler was prefigured in this, actually, gigantic struggle for supremacy.

     When the Saxons invaded Britain they carried on a war of extermination against the Britons.  They killed every man, woman and child that fell into their hands.  The Britons themselves fleeing to Armorica  or what has become known as Brittany in France, in their turn, in one district, they killed all the men of the conquered people.  Now, get this, so that the women, who were spared, couldn’t corrupt the British language, they cut their tongues out.

     My god, Donn.  It must be clear what Man is.  Show me how Hitler violated the parameters of human behavior.

     Tamerlane, or Timur, roamed through Asia decapitating the men, women and children of towns of one hundred thousand.  He piled their skulls in huge pyramids which can still be seen.

     Genghis Khan, who we respect because he’s not White, caused the destruction of millions and millions.  He depopulated huge areas.  He transported, uprooted in modern terminology, large populations.  I mean, hell, Genghis served as a role model for Hitler.  If Genghis is a hero why is Hitler a villain?  But, you see how the human mind works.  Favorites can do as they please.

     Oh yes, I know, well, you will say he employed slave labor, put people on starvation diets and worked them to death.  Quite right.  Now, Donn, don’t think I’m apologizing for Hitler because I’m not.  But things have to be put into perspective.  One cannot excuse in these what one condemns in those.

page 160.

     The very same thing happened right here in the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave.  Those of us who have never been able to deal with the state of affairs as they exist have always been out here on the road.  After the War Between The States of hateful memory, when the railroads were pushing West, spreading South and North, tens of thousands of us roamed ceaselessly back and forth, up and down.  They called us hoboes and bums then, now they call us the homeless.

     But those that didn’t have what it takes for the carefree life joined the ranks of labor.  That is to say, unskilled labor, the lumpenproletariat.  Those who have what it takes to accommodate themselves to Leviathan become skilled laborers or white collar workers.  By their very inexplicable natures these have always done well no matter how much they’re paid.  We carefree ones hate them to the bone.

     These groups combining with those restless souls who are always trying to accumulate pelf at the expense of their fellow man accepted the prevailing view of history that the poor, meaning in this case unskilled labor should always have their faces ground in the mud.  This notion is Biblical and therefore Jewish.  The basic premise received tremendous support from ‘science’ in the nineteenth century by the works of Malthus and Darwin.  The ‘scientific’ view being that a surfeit of laborers drove down the cost of labor.  The thought being that as there were more mouths to feed then nature could provide for, the less there was to go around, then the less people would accept for a hard day’s work.  Now you see why intelligent men took to the road.  There is always plenty out here.  All you have to do is ask for it.

page 161.

     As these were the poor they were considered to have no rights.  They could be treated as one wished.  Now between the War Between the States and Woodrow Wilson, Men of Property were a law unto themselves.  As J.P. Morgan said to the President of the United States:  Why didn’t you send your man to my man to talk it over.  The magnates made the rules.

     At the close of the War the great period of immigration began.  It is probable that the movement was encouraged by the Magnates to drive down the price of wages in accordance with Malthus’ law.  If not, they skillfully employed the precepts.

     Work forces were organized to be comprised of as many different languages as possible.  Thus any segment of the work force could communicate only with its fellow nationals.  They were easily divided and controlled.  Then, as in the great steel mills, men were worked twelve to fifteen hours a day seven days a week for starvation wages.  Safety precautions were not even considered.

     When men were injured or broke down under the strain or grew too  old- the last of which as you may imagine happened early in life- they were simply discarded.  Left to die.

     If they resisted they were merely gunned down by the private armies of the Magnates.  The armies went under the name of Pinkertons or some such.

page 162.

     The poor were expected to understand and keep their place.  Nor were they allowed to withdraw their labor.  When that happened as at Holly Grove and Ludlow they were turned out of the company housing which they occupied at sufferance and high rents.  Having moved into tents, the Magnates called in government troops to machine gun men, women and children from armored trains.  At Ludlow where they had dug pits within the tents to avoid the bullets they were fire bombed and burned to death.  Women and children.

     It should be borne in mind that the Magnates who ordered these deeds were both Jews and Gentiles, not only Gentiles as is often pictured.  The two nations acted as one.  Brothers of the dollar.  Now you may say that for some reason the slave laborers of Hitler are different from American slave laborers.  If so the difference is so problematical that I don’t care to argue it.

     The whole system ws changed by one courageious man.  For his class betrayal he has been defamed ever since even though more worthy than any of them.

    But first, here’s an interesting detail.  The police of New York City were using dental drills to extract confessions long before the Nazis did.  True.  Think about that.

     Back to my story.  Now, just as the savagery toward unskilled labor was reaching its peak in 1916-17, just after Holly Grove and Ludlow, Henry Ford had made a success of the Tin Lizzie.  Single handedly and with no help from the financial community of Wall Street, both straight or Jewish, Ford had built a billion dollar corporation.

page 163.

     Then in 1915, as soon as he was able, amidst the horrors of Holly Grove and Ludlow he chose to double the wages of his unskilled laborers.  He adopted a decent attitude toward workers in his plants.  In one fell swoop he disproved the existing theories about labor.  He overturned the rules.  He was never forgiven for this.  Both Jews and straights piled on engaging him in lawsuits, sabotaging his efforts, defaming him and tormenting him in general.  They didn’t break him but he died in very bad odor.

     So, you see, Hitler was no break with accepted practices.  His crime was merely a matter of degree or style rather than substance.  He didn’t disguise his intentions behind hypocrisy.’

     Donn had fallen asleep by this time.  The Gambler noted but as he was hot in the pursuit of his ideas he continued on, talking to himself in the dead of night.

     ‘Even in the context of Hitler’s times there was absolutely nothing extreme in his actions.  It is a well known fact that Hitler patterned his whole program on the Judeo-Communist pattern.

     As Judaism is the pattern of all Semitisms so Communism and Nazism were cut to measure from that pattern.  The Jews, of course, deny anything but incidental relationship to the Bolshevik Revolution whereas as the most casual examination of the facts will show, they were its backbone.  Certainly in the early days before Stalin’s counterrevolution and subsequent purges.

     Nor was the threat confined to Russia.  After the triumph of Bolshevism in Russia, Communist activists flowed back through Central Europe.  The emissaries were almost entirely Jewish.  I’m sure this fact can be explained in any one of a number of ways but the fact remains.

page 164.

     The so-called German Revolution of 1918 which undermined the German will to persist- the famous stab in the back- was engineered by those Jews as were the various power seizures or attempted seizures, in Berlin, Bavaria, the Ruhr and other places.  This is an uncontestable fact, undeniable.

     Then a particularly savage Jew- Bela Kun- seized power in Hungary.  If his deeds there were widely known all sympathy for the Jews would evaporate.  The whole story has been suppressed worldwide.  The same as saying the holocaust never happened.  Even I have not been able to find an adequate history- in English of course.  The central horrific fact seems to be that Kun crucified thousands of Christians, one on each telephone pole for miles and miles.  Telephone poles form a cross, you see.

     The same was done in Russia where God knows how many millions of people were slaughtered; we won’t even discuss the willful starvation of millions in the Ukraine.

     Now, at this time the Jews were seeking a homeland.  Some were plumping for Palestine, some for another place wherever it could be found.  Taking advantage of the disorder in Russia the international Jewish community decided to appropriate the Crimea in the South of Russia.  Bela Kun who had meanwhile been driven out of Hungary was sent down from Moscow to depopulate the Crimea for Jewish occupation.  Yes, that’s right, he was sent to exterminate the inhabitants.  Now, this was done in conjuction with world Jewry; specifically by a couple of organziations you’ve never heard of, nor have many others, called the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee and the American Jewish Committee under the overseership of Jacob Schiff.

page 165.

     Kun eliminated several hundred thousand Russians before being called back to Moscow.  His method was simply to take his victims out to sea, tie rocks around their ankles and chuck them overboard.  Thus one may say this was the will of the Jewish people, dissenters aside.

     Even though these facts have been suppressed you may be sure that Germans, Poles, Hungarians, Roumanians and whatever are well aware of them.   Their well publicized ‘anti-Semitism’ beween the wars was based as much on fear as any prejudice.

     It is the custom to discredit anything that Hitler said.  But the nationalist reaction of the Freicorps in Germany following the Great War was a desperate fight for survival.  When Hitler said of the struggle ‘We know that if we fail our heads will roll in the sand.’  he was not exaggerating.

     One points the finger of horror at Hitler’s slaughter, quite justifiably so, but had the Bosheviks won in Germany six million or more German nationalists would have been slaughtered.  So you see it’s really six of one or a half dozen of the other.

     I mean, really Donn, if boys will be boys what is one to do?  I have no idea.  Separate them and tell them to behave, I suppose.

page 166.

     My point is simply that Hitler, bad as he was, was no worse than any of the others on the playing field.  There is no aberration.  There is no discontinuity of history.  Certainly mankind has every reason to be ashamed, for after all, God knows how many millions of years of development man has undergone and he is no better now than his earliest ancestors.  We’ve just got better weapons.  What Hitler did is embedded in the subconscious of each and every one of us.  Send not for whom the bell tolls…you know.  That’s the lesson to be learned here, Jews and Nazis to the side.’

     The Roving Gambler ended with a thump well satisfied with himself.  He looked over at Donn sleeping the sleep of exhaustion.  He looked at the Ferragamos on Donn’s feet.  They were way too small for the Gambler but they were such nice looking shoes.

     The Gambler picked up his rucksack, going over to Donn to remove his shoes.  Then with sure skill he carefully rolled Donn about until he got Donn’s pants undone.  Easing them down the Gambler sodomized Donn.  He pulled Donn’s pants back up without fastening them.  Then rucksack on back, Donn’s shoes in hand he casually strolled out of the ravine.

     ‘Goodbye, Donn.’  He sneered.  ‘I’ll see you again up on the nine thousand foot level of the Big Rock Candy Mountain.’

      The fire was glowing ashes as the sun came up like nutty putty across the Mississippi in the East.  It had risen fairly high before the light penetrated Donn’s exhausted sleep.  He became conscious of the light penetrating his eyelids but the effort of opening them was too great.  He heaved two great longdrawn breaths and issued a long loud groan.  Slowly he became conscious of his arms and legs.  He lay long feeling the nervous connections before his limbs seemed to join his body.

page 167.

     His eyes popped open.  Without moving his head his eyes searched down his body examining his right arm and leg but still not moving them.  Suddenly the reality of his existence crashed through his consciousness.  He groaned again wishing he had never awakened.  But he had, he was alive, he couldn’t die.

     The experience at the dumpster the previous night seemed an eon away.  It might just as well have been in another lifetime.  He remembered his old self slithering off his arms.  He remembered his form cracking away to reveal a smaller self.  He summoned all his willpower to put back together a self with which to face the world.

     Sensation began to return to him and he realized that his half opened mouth was kissing the dirt.  He groaned again turning with a great effort onto his back.  The freshness of the weather around his crotch made him look down where he found to his amazement that his pants were wide open.  Mystified and uncomprehending he zipped them up.  This exertion reactivated his energy.  He rose to his feet looking around.  Then slowly a vague memory, as from a dream, of the Roving Gambler returned to him like the steady drone of the Gambler’s voice.  He took a couple steps toward the remains of the fire.  He raised his foot in surprised pain as he stepped on a sharp twig.  Looking down he found to his amazement that he had no shoes.  He stood looking down at this feet stupified.  Where in the hell could his shoes be?

page 169.

     Looking around he saw them nowhere.  His life collapsed around him again.  Unable to endure the hammering anymore Disco Donn Contrales sank to the ground, leaned forward head between his knees and sobbed uncontrollably.

     ‘Why me?

      What did I do?

      What did I do?

      What did I do?’

     The harsh mistreatment of Maggie Spingold was taking effect.  Donn was transferring the guilt of the world onto himself.  The next step would be to accept the guilt.  He would feel the need to expiate his ‘sin.’  But not yet.

     Donn prayed to die but since his prayer was not answered he began to think about what to do next.  There was nothing for it but to walk out.  Unlike the Gambler who had walked out of the ravine Donn climbed up the opposite side of the hole he had fallen into.

     He had an uncomfortable climb out of the ravine.  The pricks from the sticks and stones on his feet were bad enough but the unfamiliar feel of earth crumbling beneath his toes and molding under his feet disturbed him.  Then too the ground was cold and wet from the heavy dew of the night.  He had spied the way back over the railroad tracks to the highway over a half mile distant but the walk through the woods was too daunting for him.

     Then as he looked to his right he saw a man standing looking through binoculars- a bird watcher.  He was six-four but he had on a nice pair of ox blood loafers.  Looking down Donn saw a rock that tapered to a blunt end about the size of a gun barrel.  Donn picked it up, carefully sneaking up behind the bird watcher.  Donn jammed the blunt end of the rock hard into the bird watcher’s lower spine.  It hurt.

     ‘Don’t turn around.’  Donn ordered.  ‘Your life or your shoes.’

     ‘What?’  Said the birdwatcher in amazement.

     ‘Your shoes or your life.  Don’t give me any backtalk.  Just step out them, keep walking and don’t look back or you’re a dead man.’

     ‘Hey, heck yeah man, sure, you can have them.  Don’t kill my for my shoes.  They’re yours.’  The birdwatcher said kicking off his shoes, limping away as rapidly as possible.

     Donn, without a thought at the ludicrousness of the situation stepped into the shoes and tramped off to the highway in relative comfort.

     The birdwatcher wore size thirteens while Donn wore nines.  The sight was like a little boy walking in his father’s shoes.  Donn threw a shoe a couple times on the way back to the highway otherwise they did their job.

     Back on the side of the road Donn stuck his thumb out.  Within fifteen minutes a big Cadillac Eldorado hove into view, stopping just in front of him.  Donn clumped hurriedly up, pulled the big front door open and slid into the luxurious leather seating.

     The Cadillac made quite a contrast to Donn who by now was very scruffy with a three day growth, untrimmed mustache overgrowing his upper lip, blond hair uncut and unkempt, his suit and shirt actually dirty.

page 170.

     The driver was driving barefoot, had the heat on  to warm his feet.  The heat quickly warmed Donn’s clothes.

     The driver sniffed the air:  ‘Do I smell garbage?’  He asked pointedly.

     Now Donn ashamedly realized the odor of the dumpster still clung to him.  He cleared his throat to formulate an anwer making the mistake as he did so of swinging his right leg across his left in the spacious front seat.

     The driver immediately slammed on the brakes skidding across the highway and back again onto the shoulder.

    ‘Hey, those are my shoes!’ He bellowed as the out of control car skidded to a stop.  He had Donn’s door open pushing him out headfirst as he stripped Donn of the shoes.

     ‘You’re just damn lucky I don’t kill you.’  He shouted as he accelerated back up the highway leaving Donn sprawled by the side of the road.

     ‘Oh, Jesus.  When will this ever end?’  Donn said out loud as he sat disconsolately by the side of the road.  He just sort of blacked out.

     The next two or three weeks were only blurry streaks in the movie of Donn’s life.  His mind broke down, failing to record impressions as he found his way across Minnesota and Wisconsin into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

     Everywhere it seemed as though people knew he was coming.  He seemed to be recognized by total strangers.  To the observor this might have seemed to be paranoia on Donn’s part but indeed he was recognized by total strangers; Maggie had faxed his picture to the Neworks all the way down the line.  Thus Donn was rudely roasted and shoved on down the highway.  He never knew where he got the white Adidas tennis shoes he was wearing as he neared the top of the world on the spectacularly beautiful blue shores of Lake Superior at Sault Ste. Marie.

page 171.

     In the subliminal workings of Donn’s mind he had been unconsciously directing his steps hither since St. Louis.  He perceived the Locks as being so far out of the way that he would be able to find refuge and be ignored.  But he was mistaken.  It seemed that his thoughts had been anticipated by the residents.  In addition Donn’s bedraggled dirty unkempt appearance now  confirmed Maggie’s faxes.  The people seemed to form a solid wall that shunted him back toward the South.  Whatever plan he had had was now destroyed.  His goal had been reached and now as he turned to cross the peninsula toward the Straits of Mackinac and the Grand Traverse he was wandering aimlessly.  He began to think seriously of swallowing his pride and returning to his father’s house and Waco.

     About midway across the Peninsula the disaster of his life again overcame him.  It was a day of light traffic.  No cars came by.  The sun shone down brightly but with seemingly little heat.  The paradox registered strongly in his mind.  Now Donn felt alone and abandoned by the whole world.  Even Helios seemed to deny him his warmth.  He fell down on the shoulder of the road on his back arms outstretched, sobbing.

page 172.

     By coincidence this was the exact spot at which Dewey Trueman, then known as Far Gresham, left the highway to disappear into the forest to the West.  Now Donn’s will gave out.  He was a beaten man.  As much as he hated it he decided to go back to his Daddy and Waco.  He thought that in the bosom of his family he would find surcease.  There was still a distance to go before he fit bottom.

     He began to move with some purpose although now the ravages of his situation were clearly impressed on his face and posture.  Even without Maggie’s interference he now projected a repellent persona.  His looks were still there but beclouded by a black darkened mental attitude.  Despair and loathing advanced before his visage.  Aware that he would be rebuffed he was aggressively defiant and defensive in manner.  Aware of who he had been, the memory haunted him.

     Having bummed enough for a dinner he washed in a gas station in Grand Traverse and entered the restaurant at which Angeline Gower still worked after all these years.  When Trueman as Gresham had appeared here in the same, actually worse, condition nearly thirty years before the good hearted Angeline had taken him in and saved his life.  Dewey had recovered his equilibrium then walked out on her.  Embittered she had rejected all other men.

     But there was something about Donn that kindled thoughts of Dewey as she silently watched that scruffy replica of a human being eat.  Funny, he could have told her where Dewey was which she longed to know.  But had she deigned to strike up a conversation with Donn the Bum how could she have ever asked the right question.  How could he in his misery have known how to answer.  How many times do we have our heart’s desire within our grasp without knowing it.

page 173.

     Donn’s steps were now directed somewhat aimlessly, toward Texas.  He was also approaching the nadir of his virtuoso performance in his facet of Donn the Bum.  Donn wished he could have skipped these scenes in the movie of his life.  As bad as his appearance was it failed to match the deterioration of his mind.  Donn’s mind just came and went.  Sometimes he was aware of what he was doing sometimes he wasn’t.  As chance directed him his steps led him over nearly the identical route followed by Dewey Trueman when he was exiled from the Valley; down through Midland into the Saginaw Valley and into Valley City itself.

     On his progressing Thelema into town he had excellent success panhandling.  At the big intersection of Thelema, Main and Melmoth hunger over took him.  As it was now dinner time his mind slipped into the glories of yesterday.  He momentarily forgot his deplorable condition and entered a tavern and eatery called the Royal Palms.  The facade was not overly imposing.  Donn pushed open the door and stepped inside.

    The place was done up in that spartan Michigan style.  Wood floors, plain tables, checkered tablecloths, when there were any, and chairs.  The dining area was through an arch to the left, a long bar ran down the right.  The Royal Palms was scarcely presentable.  Donn even less so.

     The bartender took one look at Donn, leaned out over the bar to indicate the back door to him, and ordered him out.  As though in a dream Donn walked the length of the bar pausing under the EXIT sign for a lingering look at the empty restaurant which was indeed in the twilight of its existence.

page 174.

     He pushed open the door to step out amongst the garbage cans.  He looked at them absent mindedly for a few moments then, without thinking began picking among the remains to see if there was anything good to eat.  He was delighted to find a T-bone with a large piece of meat attached.

     His delight was abruptly destroyed by laughter and catcalls.  Donn looked over to see several young men standing by their cars.  They jeered at him becoming abusive and threatening.  Donn was jerked from his reverie.  Looking up at his detractors Donn blushed red to his very bones.

     In better days Donn could have handled the whole bunch easily but in his present defeated state of mind he cast them a furtive glance and shambled hastily down the street before anything could develop.

     He was unaware of where he was but fortune led him out of town.  By luck he followed Melmoth into Nelsonia right on Wigwam and out into central Michigan.

     Donn’s crumbling pride was very severely crushed by his ejection from the Royal Palms.  The place was one he would never have considered entering in palmier days except as a lark.  His path led out across Western Michigan through Lansing past Benton Harbor and St. Joe down to Gary.

     By now Donn was half crazed, turned inward, fearful, scarce able to go on yet aware of the terrifying length of the final stagger down to Texas.  Once again fortune favored him with a piece of luck.

page 175.

     He put out his hand to John Fadinkle:  ‘Say buddy, give a dime to a guy who’s down and out!’

     With such an approach Donn was no threat to the Roving Gambler’s three day record.  Donn’s vision of panhandling was from movies of the thirties.  Bums no longer asked for dime nowadays.   The most audacious didn’t even ask for spare change.  They demanded dollars, fives and tens at least.  The most bold and arrogant would demand twenty or even more.  Shoot, when the world owes you a living who can settle for dimes.

     Fadinkle was twenty-eight, one of those lean over bearing men.  He was a self-righteous Christian who took his charity seriously.  It allowed him superiority over his fellow men.  While earning a living as a bookkeeper at the mills he gloried in doing men such as Donn spectacular acts of charity.  He didn’t get too  many opportunites so he seized this one.

     ‘You want a dime, hey?’  Fadinkle bellowed to watch Donn grovel.

     ‘I could use it.’  Donn winced under the additional humiliation.  Had he seen the ludicrousness of asking for a dime he would have laughed out loud at himself.

     ‘What are you going to do with a dime, young man?’  Fadinkle said although obviously younger than Donn.

     Donn made some helpless gesture then turned to walk away.  Fadinkle grabbed his arm pulling him back.

page 176.

     ‘Just a second, young man.  It just so happens I’m a Christian.  I may be able to help a fellow man more than he anticipated, no matter how low he’s sunk.  What do you want the dime for?’  He demanded stentorously again, placing a hand on left hip and extending his right leg.

     Donn stood looking at this Ancient Mariner for a moment.  His intuition was sound.  He unburdened himself to Fadinkle.

     ‘Trying to get home to Texas, eh?  Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson, son.  At least this time you have applied for help and comfort to the right disciple of Jesus.’

     Donn winced at the words ‘help and comfort’ fearing the worst.

     ‘I’m going to take you down to the bus station, son, and buy you a ticket to wherever in Texas you want to go.  And I hope you find Jesus and mend your ways.’

     And he did take Donn to the bus station, bought him a ticket to Waco, bought his dinner while they waited for the bus into Chicago and put a twenty dollar bill in his hand for the trip.

     Donn was too weary to be overjoyed.  Fadinkle wasn’t.  He exulted in his acts of Christian charity.  His self-satisfaction was vulgar.  He boasted of the deed vaingloriously for months.  Yet there was no denying that his gratuity was real and this his act momentarily lifted the burden of cares from a fellow man’s shoulders.

     Donn found a seat on the bus.  He was so exhausted he slept through the bus change in Chicago unaware that he had made it.  He slept fitfully all the way through St. Louis.  He became conscious again just ouside of Joplin.

page 177.

V.

Somebody Shoot Out The Jukebox

I don’t want you under my roof

with your eighty-six proof

Watered down till it tastes like tea;

If you’re going to pull my string

Make it the real thing

for me.

-Chip Taylor

     Donn had been sleeping fitfully all the way from Gary.  He didn’t want to wake up.  He didn’t want to open his eyes until the bus pulled into Waco where, he hoped, he would open his eyes on a new world where the horror would disappear.  But just South of Joplin he became aware of an oppressive weight pressing him into the side of the bus.  As consciousness forced itself upon him the hot smell of exhaled Southern Comfort wafted up his nostrils.  Cautiously he flickered his left eye open angling his pupil to look over his left shoulder.  He found himself looking into a big fat beefy face gazing at him intently.

     ‘Oh, you’re awake.’  Screamin’ Big Daddy Gargantua said.

     ‘Get off me.’   Donn demanded.

     ‘You looked like you were dead to the world.’

page 178.

     ‘Get off.’  Donn insisted shoving futily against the huge three hundred eighty pound bulk of Screamin’ Big Daddy.

     ‘Back off.’

     For some reason the term ‘back off’ registered with Big Daddy whereas ‘get off’ hadn’t.  Perhaps because ‘get off’ had the drug connotation of getting high.  Big Daddy eased over but he was so huge that he overflowed into Donn’s seat leaving little room for Donn.  Donn cast his eyes around looking for another seat but to his consternation he found the bus full.

     ‘Hi, I’m Screamin’ Big Daddy Gargantua, leader of the band.’

     ‘What band?’

     ‘I’m the leader of the Bull Lee Band.  Rockin’ mother-fuckin’ roll.  We’re the best.  On our way to Big D to fill a gig.  We’re hot, in demand, wanted, live and how.’

     The music industry is not noted for its delicacy of language.  If fact a lack of coarseness is punished by ostracism.  Big Daddy’s speech will be severely edited but so the reader will understand the reaction of the other passengers here is a brief sample of Big Daddy’s actual discourse.

     ‘I fuckin’ got on this shit-eating bus in fuckin’ Joplin.  The other fuckin’ guys are going by fuckin’ micro fuckin’ bus but their wasn’t fuckin’ room in the fuckin’ thing for me.  Fuck me, huh?’

     Big Daddy had a high piercing voice propelled by a massive diaphragm which as the Bull Lee’s lead singer he knew how to use.  The passengers soon called the driver’s attention to Big Daddy but as he was a huge 6’3″, 380 the driver was reluctant to antagonize him.  With good reason, Big Daddy went from smiles to rage in less than a twinkle.

page 179.

     ‘Donn said:  ‘Your name’s not really Screamin’ Big Daddy Gargantua.  No one’s is.’

     ‘No, it’s not, Donn.  Big Daddy is a stage name like Wolfman Jack.  Clap for the Wolfman, hey , buddy?  What a guy.  Listened to him for years up in Charlevoix and down in Detroit.  Always wanted to be just like him.  That’s why I chose Big Daddy.  The Screamin’ is a tribute to Screamin’ Jay Hawkins.  You can see where Gargantua came from.  Ha ha.  No, my real name’s Robert Cunningham.  But can you see me as Little Bobby Cunningham?  I can’t.’

     Big Daddy took his arm from under his coat propping his other huge arm against the back of the seat in front of him to conceal the pint of Southern Comfort from which he was swigging from the driver.

     ‘Want some?  Don’t let the driver catch you or he’ll throw you off.  They’re really strict on it, besides we’re probably in a dry county.  You never can tell down here.  Screwy people.’

     Big Daddy was not only drinking but he was high on marijuana, racing along on amphetamines and God only knows what else.  Big Daddy was one of those with a fabulous capacity for drugs and alcohol.  He pushed his body unmercifully.  He would be dead in five years.  Heart.

     Big Daddy was representative of the end product of American civilization.  We are all told we are responsible for our lives.  We make the decisions that determine what happens to us.  On one level, of course, this is true.  At the same time none of us are responsible for our psychology.  We all have to respond to serious challenges before we have either the intellectual or moral capacity to make wise decisions.  Most of life is shucking off the bad habits foisted on us both by acquaintance and parents and most importantly the reconcilement of what C.G. Jung called the collective unconscious to reality; or else we succumb to them.

page 180.

     For the mind of Big Daddy and his Vague Generation was filled with specious received opinion that controlled his and their conscious behavior and against which they were unsuccessfully rebelling.  As the weight of society opposing them was too great the rebellion was repressed only to exhibit itself in several forms of bizarre behavior which was inexplicable to their elders.  Hence, as George Clinton of the Black group Funkedelic so aptly noted:  America began to eat its young.  The older generation which had created the situation declared war on their offspring, made them outlaws.

     Big Daddy was a WASP, redundantly styled White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, a racist defamatory tag in a colored America.  Although the Jews do refer to Blacks as Black Anglo-Saxons with some justification.  Thus because  Big Daddy and his fellows were at the butt end, after 1950 they became objects, not perpetrators, of racism in America.  Any derogatory remark could be made against their race but they were forbidden to make derogatory remarks against others.  Remarkably they went from masters to slaves with little protest, even with a sense of humor.

page 181.

     Thus, although it was an unacknowledged truth, the Black/White and immigrant/native roles were reversed.  This was not probably all that strange as the numbers of Negro and immigrant descendants far exceed the native Anglo population. 

     The WASP population was made to feel ashamed of its past even though all progress emanated from their ideals.  They were made to feel supremely evil while all other peoples were portrayed as faultlessly virtuous.  Racism was made to be an exclusively White fault.  Thus the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 was portrayed as shameless bigotry of the White race against the Yellow race.  Bigotry is a term which has no social definition except White against coloreds and Jews.

     The broader aspect of cultural or racial clashes are never considered in America.  Any ideological differences are automatically attributed to race.  American experience is never placed in the broader context of the European and Chinese diasporas of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.  America means myopia.  The aims and goals of the migrating nations are never considered.  The received opinion is that everyone was fleeing religious persecution.  Not so.  This might have a basis in truth before the French Revolution but not after.  During the nineteenth century Europeans were merely trying to better their economic lot or fleeing political retribution.

     In the lesser known Chinese diaspora of the nineteenth century the Chinese were met with hostility wherever they went, and they went all over the world.  The White invasion of the world released the Chinese to begin a counter invasion.  Brown-Yellow racism was much more potent than Yellow-White.  The Chinese were subject to several massacres in the Philippines.  Throughout South-East Asia and the Indonesian Archepelago there were frequent bloody clashes between the indigenous stock and the immigrant Chinese.  All eventually imposed Chinese Exclusion laws, so the the United States was by no means alone.  There can also be no difference between brown-yellow or white-yellow discrimination or the yellow-white discrimination against Whites in China.  It’s all bigotry, if one sees the world in that term.

page 182.

     In many of the South-Eastern nations the Chinese were expelled in the twentieth century and the remaining Chinese had civil disabilities imposed on their culture.  Certainly the Chinese in the United States have little to complain about.  They have managed the Whites well.  It would appear that in comparison to other races the Whites are even benign.

     But the Chinese and Japanese in America retired into their exclusive communities and have had relatively small effect on the formation of the American character.  Anglo social attitudes have been most effectively altered by two European immigrant groups.  those two groups, as well as the Blacks, had the greatest effect in the creation of the Vague Generation.  Both were shrouded in gross misrepresentations of their characters.

     There are no innocent peoples.  All peoples can be found at the wash basin of God trying to wash the blood from their hands.  Received opinion states that these ‘innocent’ groups arrived pure and were corrupted by vile criminal Anglo-Saxons.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  They brought it with them when they came.

page 183.

     Italian immigration was mainly from the Two Sicilies; the island of Sicily and the southern half of the boot.  The area was indued with a criminal appreciation of society before immigration began, where it was in progress of development and continues developing to this day.  The Mafia is presently struggling for control of Italy; its American offshoot might be construed as doing the same in the United States.  ‘Bigots’ predicted the situation in the early twentieth century.

     The Two Sicilies are poor countries, they weren’t always but prosperity does not exist in a criminal society.  During the early nineteenth century the Sicilians were the migrant laborers of Europe.  They despised education.  Workers went North during the summer to return during the winter.  Eventually Italian laborers began to migrate across the seas to Argentina and Brazil or anywhere in South or Central America where there was work.  The intention was always to return home with a cache.  Inevitably large numbers remained overseas permanently.

     In the 1890s New York was added to their itinerary.  The Italians were migrant laborers, millions came but millions returned.  The net result when the Great War disrupted this migratory pattern was that there were several million Italians stranded in the United States.  The great enclave or colony in New York City was and still appears to be foreign colony in American territory.  The European diaspora was not confined to the United States or even North and South America but extended to South Africa, Africa, the Middle East, South East Asia, Australia, China and in fact, the world.  Movement was virtually unrestricted.  the passport system was relaxed.  People could come and go pretty much as they chose.  As a result a shortlived international society grew up.  A sort of circuit was formed.  The resultant lack of societal controls allowed vast criminal networks to develop.

 page 184.

     Thus the famous Italian slave boys of New York City who were organ grinders on the streets for their owners.  Opportunities were rife.  Thus also the notorious White Slave Trade which had already developed in Europe spread throughout the world.

     The White Slave Trade involved the second of the peoples who have altered the Anglo culture of America.  These were the Jews.  At the time the Jews vehemently denied any involvement in the trade but recent studies, by Jews, have  confirmed the fact if it needed confirmation.

     No group has cast more aspersions on America than the Jews.  In the official version of their entry it is told that a holy group of religious ascetics, uncorrupted and pure, arrived from Mother Russia to be forced to congregate, in the densest mass of humanity in the world, as the per capita population of ther colony in New York City was.  Once they were  in the United States the WASPS extorted and abused them.  Under the pressures or American society the Holy People were stripped of their identity as their youths abandoned the ways of their fathers.  Forced to live in indescribable poverty they nevertheless rose above their circumstances to realize the American Dream:  A chicken in every pot, a car in every garage and free sex.

page 185.

     The scenario is not even half true.  Jewish society was already in dissolution in the Pale of Settlement.  A lingering seething resentment against Rabbinical Judaism had set in decades before.  The youth were already in the advanced stages of the rejection of Rabbinical Judaism.

     The Jewish reaction to the failure of the Messiah Sabbatai Zevi had already brought into existence the philosophy of Jacob Frank in the eighteenth century  which was based on the notion that the Messiah would never come so long as there was evil in the hearts of men so that people should indulge their evil impulses to get them out of their systems to make way for the arrival of the Messiah. 

     Thus by the end of the nineteenth century the Jews were in control of the world wide White Slave Trade.  Jewish gangs similar to the ones of New York City were already roving the streets of European cities.   The Jews, as with the Italians, merely picked up their culture and brought it with them to the New World.  Needless to say not all Jews were of the same mind, what culture is.  Respectable Jews went so far as to deny the criminal gang members burials in consecrated ground.  Yet the criminal class was so numerous that they had their own cemetaries which they found Rabbis to bless.

     Respectable Jews came to accept their criminal class on an equal basis.  In 1928 the arch-criminal, Arnold Rothstein, then very notorious although little remembered today, was buried in consecrated ground with great pomp.

page 186.

     Nor were the Jews exploited by goys.  They exploited each other.  The tenements were owned by fellow Jews from the beginning.  The first floor apartments were rented to prostitutes.  When the mother of the Jewish writer Michael Gold complained to her landlord about the prostitutes the landlord merely shrugged and said it was business.  If Gold’s mother was willing to pay more than the prostitutes then the landlord would be happy to rent to her.

     Like the Italians the Jews of New York arrived in such numbers that the Jewish areas nearly formed a Jewish state in America.  They did.  Nor did the intense crowding on the lower East Side have anything to do with America.  The Jews had always been crowded in the Pale. Look at Israel today.  The term ‘he doesn’t have a corner to call his own’ refers to the habit in the Pale of renting each corner of a room to different families, thus one room might house up to, say, twenty people.  Add to that the insecurity of the Jews seeking safety in numbers and you have the dense population of the Lower East Side.

     Working out of these colonies, which were impervious to the American police, the Jews and Italians formed a criminal network that was so pervasive it dominated the p0litical life of  New York.

     Originally the Italians were too insular to do much more than prey on their own people.  They nevertheless came into conflict with other ethnic gangs.  The result was a destructive internecine warfare.  It was obvious therefore that some sort of syndicate was necessary.  The intermediary for this was Arnold Rothstein.  Time has dimmed Rothstein’s renown but his notoriety during the twenties was paramount.  What he was doing is obscure to this day although his criminal activies seemed to consolidate both political and criminal activities toward one goal.

page 187.

     He was the agent who brought the Italian and Jewish gangs to the accommodation known as the Syndicate or organized crime.  He was also organizer and financier of bootlegging after the adoption of prohibition. He was muscled out of the liquor business.  Rothstein cast about for some way to realize the huge financial bonanza of prohibition.  He selected the drug business.  He had just succeeded in organizing the necessary worldwide system of contacts when he became politically superfluous.  He was assassinated in 1928.

     But the criminal influence in political circles was so great that the criminals were able to push many laws through the New York legislature and the US Congress that it made it difficult if not impossible to convict them of their crimes.  Their power was accepted by Anglo society as ‘another form of doing business’ thus criminalizing the Anglo mentality.  The ideal of virtue was pushed aside in favor of the ideal of vice.

      The Jewish politicians aligned themselves meanwhile with the New York politician Al Smith and through him to Franklin Delano Roosevelt.  Smith lost his bid for the presidency through his parocialism but FDR succeeded.  Through FDR the Jews succeeded in being able to directly influence the President of the United States.  Thus the coalition was formed that ended in the introduction into American society of the Jewish philosophy of Pluralism and Political Correctness as opposed to the Melting Pot and Freedom of Conscience.  So you see, it could, after all, happen here.  We were just watching the wrong place.

page 188.

     The point is not that the Jews and Italians were necessarily worse than Anglos, it’s just that they were not any better.

     That was part of the problem of Screamin’ Big Daddy and the Vague Generation.  They were made to feel dirty and inferior.  They were made to assume the collective guilt for Hitler and the Nazis and the Evil in the world of which they were made to believe all others were innocent little children.  The Vague Generation was punished if it did not so believe.  When the Anglo and German Americans pointed to the Mafia they were admonished that the Mafia wasn’t representative of the Italian people.  Thus while they were collectively guilty for Hitler and the accumulated Evil of the world the collective guilt extended to no other people.  Logic was thrust aside.

     Just because, they were told, some Italians were Mafiosi not all Italian were.  True enough as far as it goes.  But the fact is the the Mafia is representative of the Italian psyche.  While all Italians are not Mafiosi, all Mafiosi are Italians.  The Anglos and Germans have no history of comparable organized crime.  If the Italians discountenanced the Mafia the Mafia would cease to exist, so collective guilt can be assigned to the Italians.  Instead the Mafiosi, if not honored in the Italian community, are powerful enought to command ‘respect’ and punish any dissenters with death.

page 189.

     Even though the facts contradicted the assertion on the face of it, WASP children had to accept the fact that they were ‘dirty’ while Italians were clean despite the Mafia.

     So with the citizens of the City On The Hill.  The ‘inventors’ of morality were not only guilty of the most heinous crimes but they sent the ADL crisscrossing the country to denounce the ‘anti-Semites’ who pointed it out.  The ‘anti-Semites’ were punished by the loss of jobs and social status without the benefit of a hearing or trial or even a definition of ‘anti-Semite.’  To be denounced was to be guilty.  Shades of  McCarthy.  Isn’t anybody watching?

     While the anti-Communists of the period took it upon themselves to publish ‘Red Network’ type lists that at least allowed the victims some avenue of protest, the anti-anti-Semites went clandestinely about their evil work.

     Neither would the Jews accept responsibility for their faults while projecting an aura of criminality on Big Daddy and the Vague Generation.

     Concurrently, the drug situation initiated by Rothstein matured rapidly in the post war world.  Drugs were, of course, not new.  They had always been there.  They were used mainly by the upper and lower classes.  If one examines popular music of the thirties and forties- and popular music is a very accurate mirror of society- one will find numerous references to drugs from the society composer Cole Porter to the Black composer Cab Calloway.

page 190.

     But for some reason the authorities increased the severity of the statutes against drugs just as the massive effort to extend their penetration began.  Drug dealers feeling the pressure turned for safety to recruiting juvenile pushers who had been placed outside legal jurisdiction and couldn’t be prosecuted.

     The drug push coincided with the development and spread of chemical pharmaceutical stimulants and depressants.  In addition certain herbs, like peyote buttons  and mushrooms emerged into prominence.  The pharmacopeia of drugs became immense.  As mankind is always seeking salvation from without, the older generation eagerly embraced the pharmaceuticals.  Thus the youth of America saw their elders popping oceans of pills for relief from the strain of living, so what was wrong with drugs they asked?

     The drug culture began to develop.  the push was led by marijuana and then on to the harder stuff.  Pot found its way into all communities of the US.  Screamin’ Big Daddy was born in 1952.  He neared maturity as the drug scene was reaching maturity in 1967-70.  He just slipped right in.  It was easy.

     The Immigrant Coalition had defeated the Anglo Nativists by 1950.  The Anglo acceptance of the notion of the Melting Pot in which the immigrants were to bend seamlessly into Anglo society gave way to the Jewish concept of Multi-Culturalism in which each nationality was to retain its distinctive culture; except the Anglo minority of course.  Anglo customs were portrayed as bad and offensive while immigrant cultures were good and rewarding.  I did live through this you know, so no denials.

 page 191.

     All the racial and cultural clashes were there; they had to be contained.  This was made very difficult by the emergence of the Black culture into the mainstream.  While there can be little doubt that the Blacks had been the victims of injustice as an entire group the elimination of those wrongs could only be achieved in both the Black and White minds by the creation of even greater injustices.  Upper class Whites were willing to sacrifice lower class Whites to Black rage.  Somebody had to pay the bill.  Big Daddy was lower class White.  Your check, sir.

     In the fifties schools began to become living hells as all the destructive forces of society were turned loose in them.  Drugs and race antagonism combined to prevent effective education.  Until 1956 high school achievement tests had been rising steadily.  Beginning in 1957 they began to drop and have continued to do so to this day.  Americans, ever unwilling to face the truth, deny that the Black/White conflict has anything to do with it yet the schools have progressed from battlefields to war zones as Black/White tensions increase.  Whereas a switch blade was the deadly weapon in the fifties, students now tote automatic pistols in the hallways.  They probably need them too.

     Belying what they said, affluent White parents tried several end runs around desegration.  In Michigan, take Flint for example, the Blacks and Poor Whites were thrown together in the big A schools like Flint Central and Flint Northern while smaller C schools deep within White neighborhoods were created.  A few miles further North, Saginaw Blacks were kept on the East side of the river so that Saginaw High was mixed Black and White while Arthur Hill on the West side was all White while still professing great sympathy for the plight of the Blacks.

page 192.

     While Blacks were unable to compete with the Vague Generation on the proverbial ‘level playing field’ they were given preferential treatment to compensate.  White students of the lower classes were deprived of what they had earned by hard work so that Blacks could be handed more.  Uh, uh, now.  I was there.

     The result in the minds of lower class Whites like Big Daddy was that while the Blacks were freed they were being enslaved.  They could see little justice in transferring injustice toward Blacks to themselves.  But they had no recourse, not even the sense to complain.

     The manhood of Screamin’ Big Daddy was blunted.  He had to, he was compelled, to backpeddle his own abilities before not only Blacks and the immigrant psychology but also to upper class Whites.

     Big Daddy tried to recoup his manhood in the obvious way; by screwing other males.  In the sexual act of sodomy Big Daddy sought to transfer what was left of the other’s manhood to himself.  As a sexual predator he especially preferred Black homosexuals.  They were more willing to accord him the role of the Great White Planter.  Suffering from their own emasculation they were more than willing to accord him the role.

     Events had shaped Screamin’ Big Daddy; Big Daddy had had no hand in the shaping of events.  He was Society’s Child.  In a different less harsh more kind society he would have been a different man.  His was essentially a mind that had been wasted.  Yet, also, he would have been a different man had he made different decisions but one should not be overly critical of a man in no man’s land; it’s always easy to make good decisions in the safety of GHQ.

page 193.

     Big Daddy was totally obsessive-compulsive.  With an audience he was compelled to tell his story.  With a captive audience like Donn, well oiled as he was, he couldn’t be stopped.

     ‘My whole life’s been screwed up.  I’m amazed I’m here.  You shoulda been there.  I laugh but I don’t think anything was funny.  I laugh to keep from crying.  I mean, why me?  Before my ma left my dad we lived up in Charlevoix where the band is from.  That’s in the UP of Michigan.  Ever been there?  Michigan’s in two peninsulas you see, the Upper and Lower.  The state motto is:  “If you seek a beautiful peninsula look around you.”  Maybe that’s why we have two.  I always thought the motto was kinda stupid.  Who goes around looking for beautiful peninsulas?  ‘Sides that’s kind of like sayin’ if you seek a blue sky look above you.  Guy had to be a real genius to lame that one up.  We always felt inferior because Minnesota had the motto Land Of 10,000 Lakes on their license plates.  Hell, they said, Michgan’s got 12,000 lakes.  Only thing is we didn’t have the sense to claim it first; we waited till Minnesota did it.  And then we complained about them.  So now I’m in Detroit, little kid five years old.  My ma doesn’t even bother to get a divorce, she’s still married to my dad.  He didn’t have the sense to realize he should have got a divorce.  He’s married to someone else now.  Bigamist.  So, anyway she just leaves, never got one.

page 194.

     Well, after about six months my dad comes down to Detroit and asks my mother to go back to Charlevoix.  So he’s hittin’ the bottle just as heavy- Southern Comfort just like me- and battin’ my ma around just as hard, so six months later we’re back in Detroit.  So now I put a half year in two different kindergartens.  Well, my ma likes ’em rough and crazy.  So she’s having these cruds over to the apartment all the time.  Sometimes they do it in the livin’ room right in front of me.  I don’t mind (Big Daddy lied) because I learn a lot.  So, my dad comes down and takes me back to Charlevoix because he get wind and is disgusted with my ma.”

     All these events were confused in Big Daddy’s mind.  The whole period until the eighth grade was one confused ball of events.  The whole period of about seven years had entered Big Daddy’s mind as one event.  He was unable to say in which year anything happened, nor are his facts necessarily accurate.  His memory was one of discrete events rolled into an amorphous ball.  There was no cause and effect.

     “So they they start arguing and fighting over me, I’m back and forth all the time going to two maybe three schools a year.  That’s why I’m such a good clown, the only way I could get along at all without fightin’ non-stop, not that I didn’t have to fight all the time anyway until I got big which happened fairly early, then they just did things behind my back, drove me crazy.  You wonder why I call myself Screamin’ Big Daddy?  Hunh!  I know tricks, buddy, I know all the tricks.  Hate everyone of them mother-fuckers.  Kill ’em all I had the chance.  Just put all their necks together, wrap a piano wire around ’em and pull tight.  I know I won’t get the chance though.  Life ain’t fair.

page 195.

     So between the two of ’em, my crazy old man and my whore of a mother, I’d rather be with my mother.  But I still spent time with the old drunk or the band wouldn’t be from Charlevoix, hey?

     Couldn’t stand Detroit.  My ma didn’t have much money.  She was more interested in men than work, didn’t have enough sense to charge ’em for it, thought they were all madly in love with her, don’t know how she ever explained to herself why they never came back.  So we’re always in border areas between Whites and Blacks, sometimes we’re even over the border.  Boy was that hell.  When Detroit blew up I threw a couple Molotov cocktails wherever they would land and ran right back to Charlevoix as fast as I can, wait’ll the riots are over.

     Of course, high school, shit.  How did anybody get out alive.  Blacks and Whites, Blacks and Blacks, Whites and Whites.  Goddamn fist fights and knife fights goin’ all the time.  I don’t know how the girls handled it.  If they all didn’t get raped by the bloods at one time or another I’d be surprised.  All the time, all the time, all the time, had to watch your back, both sides and your front in every class.  Hell, things fell out of the sky.  Don’t know how we learned anything.  Must have learned everything I know in Charlevoix.  By high school I could kick shit out of any of those White pukes so they had to give me respect.  Either give it or I’d knock it out of you.

page 196.

     I tell ya about the band?  So, I got nothin’ but the sounds to keep me warm.  I’m all over that radio every night.  Listened to everything, you name it.  Ain’t nothin’ I don’t know.  Rock, pop, R&B, Country, jass.  Man I know groups and singers nobody else in the world ever heard of.  They probably don’t remember themselves.  I know funky black shit funky blacks don’t know.  They’re…”

     Big Daddy almost let his true feelings show by saying “…dumb as dogshit.”  but his social training asserted itself and he blocked that phrase out.  Didn’t want to sound like a bigot.

     “…natural, man.  It all comes to them from places they don’t know about.  They got sources us White guys, all hung up and everything, will never know nothin’ about.  Man, just check out Sun Ra or Pharaoh Sanders, you’ll dig what I mean right away.

     But, you know back in the early sixties they used to package about a dozen flops in plastic wrap, 45s you know, then they’d put a flop by a big name like Buddy Holly on top where you couldn’t see the other stuff.  Used to rip ’em off all the time.  I’d go over to one of the clerks and tell ‘im I saw the nerdiest looking guy there stuffing ’em so the clerk would watch him then I take what I want.  Had thousands of crummy 45s.  And you know most of ’em weren’t that bad as music or songs.  I mean, man, they put out thousands of records and maybe only a couple hundred would ever make the radio even once.

     So, I mean, man, I learned just about everything there was to know about music.  I can play any instrument just have to pick it up fiddle around for a few minutes and I got it.  I play sax with the band on the long instrumental breaks, honk that mother like you ain’t never heard.  We got a ass kickin’ band.  Johnny and Jack is as good a rhythm section as any you find, probably better.  Can’t have a good rock band without a solid rhythm section, I figured that out right away.  Then we got Charlie on lead guitar, he’s OK, Ira on rhythm and here’s where we really kick ass, Augie Myron, Farfisa.  The Farfisa’s a funky little keyboard organ, Augie really puts us over the top, then I really blow ’em away with my vocals and sax.  I open every show with this terrific shtick where I start in my highest falsetto then without a break shift right on down to my baritone.  Kills ’em every time.  We’re a real party band, we clown around a lot but never, never do Johnny and Jack miss a beat, man, never.  That’s why we’re top party band anywhere.

page 197.

     Let’s see did I leave anything out?  Oh yeah.  My so-called college career.  I get into Junior College in Detroit, I can’t even bring myself to mention the name, high schools neither, I almost throw up every them I think of it, gag for sure.  It was weird, really weird, really was.  Like in high school the Blacks and Whites was mixed up all the time but at college it was they disappeared.  Half the school was Black but, I mean, like you never saw ’em, not the young one’s anyway.  First time in my life I had classes that was all White.  Cafeteria was all White, they was there but I don’t where they went.

page 197.

     I mean it was, like, the administration dealt with us separately.  It was weird, at the same time they was tellin’ us we were sinners if we didn’t love Blacks and give way before them, they was fightin’ like hell to keep Black studies off of the curriculum at the same time.  Never could figure it out.

     The music drove the bastards crazy.  That and our long hair, the old fucks never could deal with reality.  They thought we should be simps just because they were, then when they found out we was too cool they hated us.  If it was up to me not a one of those bastards would buried when they die, just leave ’em layin’ on top of the ground for everyone to see how rotten they were, are, is.

     So you know from one side they’re tellin’ us about freedom of speech and from the other side they’re tellin’ if we don’t say what they want they’ll make us hurt.  Who cares, when you get old you lose, I wanta live fast, die young and leave a beautiful corpse.  (Daddy would get two out of three and two out of three ain’t bad.)  So they used to stage these mock debates, everything’s mock in America, there ain’t nothin’ real, over whether Blacks are naturally inferior or not, then they wouldn’t invite the Blacks so as not to hurt their feelins.  White only affair.  Why they did I don’t know because nobody was goin’ around sayin’ Blacks was inferior.  Wouldn’t dare, they’d expel anyone who did.  So they tap me to take the side about Blacks are naturally inferior.

     Oh yeah, but I forgot.  First I’m in this political science class where they tell you what to think, you know, party line, why call it education for chrissakes, and I’m next to this old buck, Black guy about forty, so we get this test back, I got a C and this black guy gets a B, but I look over at his paper and see I’ve got a higher score.  Well, you know, I can’t take that without a squawk so I point out that if this guy should have a B I should have a A, don’t want to take nothin’ away from the old blood, so this guy, this so-called prof, looks me right in the eye and says that because of the bell curve he’s only got so many As and Bs to hand out, that because this Black guy’s had it tougher than a White guy like me who’s had all this ‘White skin privilege’ he gets a B and I gotta take a C.  Bull Shit!  I’ve had it plenty tough.  If you wanta compare tough with tough I’ve probably had it tougher.  I mean, I don’t know whether I’m comin’ or goin’.  So this so-called prof says shut up or I’m out of the class.  Boy, I am plenty burned, but so what?  What can I do about it?  Nothin’.

page 199.

     So, then they tap me for this debate, probably because this asshole tells ’em I’m a bigot or something, and I’m told to lay down, take a fall , you know.  Fuck that shit!  If I’m in it I’m in it to win.  So I give ’em holy hell, used statistics and everything, so  they order me off the dais right in mid debate and call me in for a chat.  I defend myself because, man, I mean, I’ve had enough.  They tapped me I didn’t go to them.  But then I notice the administration is pretty cool to me and I can’t get good grades no longer.  Guys are always challenging me in class, provoking me.

     So I wrote this prayer for racial harmony.  The only problem was I started out ‘Oh Lord…’   Not only did they bar my poem on religious grounds but when the hailed me before the board as a trouble maker, get this, some Black guy who was a Muslim objected on the grounds that I was talking about a Christian god, he assumes because I’m White I’m a Christian, which discriminated against Allah, and this Jewish guy nods his head in agreement because my prayer might be taken as anti-Semitic on the same grounds.

page 200.

 End of clip Part II-4.  Go to clip Part II-5 which is the last clip.