Our Lady Of The Blues
The Heart Of The Matter
Now, Leda gave birth to two eggs. The other egg contained the female twins, Clytemnestra and Helen, she of Troy. Thus the two women represent Spring and Autumn, or the Equinoxes, while the males represent Winter and Summer or the Solstices. Helen, of course, is Spring the ever beautiful while Clytemnestra is the hag at the end of the year.
These four divisions were obvious facts. The cross in the circle represents the four turning points of the year. The problem was to know exactly where you were in the year so you could regulate farming or take advantage of the migrations of animals.
The answer is really quite simple. All you need to do is establish a starting point and begin counting. Of course, you have to learn to count first. The easiest point is to determine the shortest day of the year on December 21st. Once you have determined that then all you have to do is count the days till it returns. So, except for the puzzling phenomenon of Leap Year you know exactly how long the year is and where each day will fall. So mankind had located itself in relation to a complete cycle of days. Yes, there were competing systems.
I believe that the Atlanteans discovered the principle of the solar year over one hundred thousand years ago. It is also impossible that language for transmission of the idea should have been very advanced that long ago.
The next question is how do you retain the knowledge or, in other words, pass the information from generation to generation when language is so primitive. First you need a group of scholars or priests whose function is to keep the archives. They pass the information on as a story in pictographs. Hence the story of the year was created; it was entitled the Zodiac, at least by the Greeks, the ancient title or titles we cannot know.
But we do know that the story had been fully developed for tens of thousands of years simply because the celestial Zodiac which must have developed after the terrestrial was established when the disruption in civilization occurred during the Age of Leo as is proven by the Egyptian and Mesopotamian evidence as well as the modern scientific evidence of the ending of the ice age. All at the same time.
The Greek Zodiac divides the signs into quarters of three related signs as well as symbols outside of, but related to, the Zodiac such as Castor and Polydeukes and the Hydra.
The Dioscuri represented each half of the solar year while the twin girls represented the Equinoxes. We will disregard the Equinoxes. The two most important signs of the Zodiac are hence Sagittarius and Cancer. Each sign concerns itself with a solstice or turning of the year.
Sagittarius the Archer of December twenty-first is shooting an arrow. It is not obvious where the target is but it must be the heel of Cancer in the person of Polydeukes the Sun King, who begins his boxing exploits on June twenty-first. The arrow is as fleet as the horses of which Castor is the master.
The next sign, Capricorn, represents the return of hope as the waters of northern rivers begin their rise. In the Olympian Zodiac Capricorn is ruled by Hestia, the goddess of the hearth as families cluster around the central fires for warmth.
Half goat, half fish the meaning is probably that the goat represents life as he is often seen in Mesopotamian mythology nibbling the leaves of the tree of life. The fish no doubt represents the repletion of the finny denizens which provide a food supplement through the lean months.
After Capricorn Aquarius the water bearer brings back the purifying and fructifying waters of life that irrigate the fields preparing them for virgin growth. Thus it is that Hera can be matron and virgin at the same time.Thus Mary bears Jesus in virgin birth. In the Olympian Zodiac Aquarius is ruled by the Earth goddess Hera.
The water bearer is thought by many to be Ganymede the cupbearer of Zeus. Why Ganymede isn’t clear. Other than the most peautiful youth on Earth who so appealed to Zeus that he was translated to Heaven on the wings of an eagle, as the sign is ruled by the Earth goddess Hera it would make sense to associate him with Attis, Adonis or any other of the Great Mother’s annual consorts. Ganymede’s ascension is associated with Troy. That war was fought between the Matriarchal and Patriarchal points of view. Aphrodite, as Great Mother, was the patroness of the Trojans so with the defeat of the Matriarchy at Troy the Eternal Youth may have been abducted into the Patriarchal scheme to emasculate the Matriarchy, so to speak. Without a male consort the Great Goddess must wither away.
At any rate Ganymede is obviusly fertilizing the Great Mother for another annual cycle.
Next Pisces reprented by twin fish swimming in opposite directions, male and female represents the fecundity of the coming Spring season. The symbolism of the Male and Female going in opposite directions but still connected may represent the fact that while men and women are very different they are still phyiologically connected. Christian mythology should be considered seriously in this context as Pisces is the sixth ‘king’ since the deluge.
Aries the Ram butts the budding plants from the ground. First growth seems very slow so it needs encouragement. Another Greek image is that of Persephone rising from the underworld while gods with hammers and tongs crack away the crusted earth to bring her forth.
Taurus who is ruled by Aphrodite in the Olympian Zodiac is nearly as self-explanatory as Leo. The Great Mother and her greatest consort, the immense raging bull. Having been released by Aries the crops burst forth with wild energy. Compare the lusty look of the Rose as it shoots.
Gemini, the next sign which includes the end of May and the first two thirds of June, is a very orderly sign. Placed after the wild excesses of Aries and Taurus it is followed by the torrid destructive signs of Cancer and Leo. Gemini is appropriately governed by Apollo whose mottoes are: Everything in measure and Nothing in excess.
Castor and Polydeukes reappear as the twins or Dioscouri passing the year from one of dearth to one of plenty.
Cancer, which follows, is one of the two important axes of the year. The Unconquerable Sun reaches the apex of its power on the first day of Cancer but then begins its slow decline. the mythology of Cancer the Crab is especially rich.
The arrow shot by Castor or Sagittarius now comes to Earth lodging in the heel of the valiant Sun King, Polydeukes.
In the earlier traditions in all probability the Sun King was not able to cut off the immortal head of the Hydra. The Greeks in mortal combat with the Matriarchy implausibly have Heracles, who they substitute for the Sun King, succeed in killing the immortal head of the Hydra.
The Greeks added a lot of complications to the story but I will attempt to eliminate them with Heracles only in his role as the Sun King.
The Hydra, which dwelt in the Lernean swamps near Argos in Greec, was a monster with seven heads. Six were mortal while the seventh was immortal. The battle had to be fought anew each year. Heracles, in legend, was said to have killed the immortal head of the Hydra but this is not borne out by the subsequent history of the world nor, indeed, was it possible.
The six mortal heads are quite obviously the six months between the two solstices which the Sun King destroys one by one until he victoriously passes the torch to Castor on December 21st.
Like the axis of the Unconquerable Sun in the December position the seventh head of the Hydra represents the opposite axis of the solar year and cannot be destroyed. Indeed, no sooner does the Sun King cut off the mortal heads than the Hydra grows six more.
The meaning of the Crab isn’t entirely clear but the Crab is thought to walk backwards or sideways which it does. Thus by seizing the Sun King by the heel it drags him slowly back into the swamp causing the days to shorten. Probably it was felt necessary to cause the Sun King to be drawn back as he destroyed the six monthly heads.
Thus Sagittarius and Cancer fully explain the two halves of the year.
The sign of Leo is self-explanatory. The raging lionof the heat of mid-summer lays waste the fields returning them to their virgin condition.
Hence Leo is followed by Virgo the Virgin to lie fallow until Aquarius reimpregnates the Earth. The myth was told of Hera that she knew of a secret spring in which she bathed once a year to restore her virginity. This is another way of saying that the Earth is renewed each year by the Spring rains. Virgo and Aquarius are the meaning of the myth. The Virgin Mary is probably associated with the myth also.
Libra bearing the scales of justice marks the fall equinox when the seasons tip from the third quarter into the fourth quarter. She is the balance between the two halves of the second half of the year.
Scorpio is not clear to me except that scoprions get into the sandal and bite the heel. The heel is a convenient symbol of death in Greek mythology. As Scorpio is governed by Ares in the Olympian Zodiac the notion of senseless killing is reinforced. Ares was a violent thug who fought and killed for the pleasure of fighting and killing so Scorpio may represent the mad assassin of the old year.
That brings us back to Sagittarius when the Unconquerable Sun triumphs and the Archer fires off the arrow for the new year which lands we now know where.
In relation to Scorpio it is signficant that Sagittarius is facing toward the new year rather than back toward the old. So Scorpio may in fact represent merely the death of the old year.
The symbols are of recent Greek origin but the story must have been formulated early in ante-diluvian times. Especially so since the Zodiac has only a celestial existence in Greek mythology but not a terrestrial one. At what time the Zodiac was translated to the sky can probably never be known for sure but I think we may be sure that the six kings previous to Leo had alredy completed at least one full circuit.
Logically it must be true.
Now, the question is, who formulated the Zodiac so long ago.
For want of a better name it could only have been the people of the land the Egyptians called Atlantis.
All the evidence points to the existence of a civilization antecedent to the Great Flood. The Flood was the point of discontinuity. Thus the Flood and Atlantis may represent the same event. After the Flood the world entered a long dark age emerging only with ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia.
But, while the evidence of the earliest known civilizations, those of Egypt and Mesopotamia survive, the question is why not the remains of this earlier civilization.
In Egypt the flooding of the Nile is a blessing so they could not consider a flood disastrous. However earthquakes occur in the Delta causing submersion of coastal lands so the Egyptians depicted the disappearance of Atlantis as falling beneath the waves because of a great earthquake. Floods were less benign in Mesopotamia so a Great Flood submerged the previous civilization. Both versions agree that the big event occurred during the Age of Leo and involved submersion.
Well and good.
Now, modern science postulates that a great ice age existed prior to Leo that had endured for something like a hundred thousand years. During this ice age so much water was impounded that ocean levels dropped by several hundred feet. I quote science. Thus the entire continental shelves of the world would have been exposed and habitable. Huge areas of the Asian Pacific would have been exposed. Scientists say that the Bering strait was several miles wide. Most of the Mediterranean Basin would have been above water.
One assumes that prior to the onset of this Ice Age that those same shelvings had been under water. Thus as the waters receded it follows that flora and fauna, including man, would exist where they had never existed before.
Emigrants are usually those least able to compete successfully at home. The successful are quite content to remain in possession at home.
Those displaced persons who are faced with new challenges often come up with new answers.
There are many drawbacks, or unsolved probelms, with the theory of evolution. More adaptable variants of the same species often exist in competition with less adaptable variants. But the less adaptable may have more physical vigor than the more adaptable leaving the latter at a competitive disadvantage. For instance you and I might be more adaptable than Jack Dempsey but in a fist fight with him we’re going to get lumped and not him.
Thus Neanderthal man may have existed side by side with Cro-Magnon man but in primitive technology he had the upper hand. Thus as the shelves became available for habitation it is probable that the weaker Cro-Magnon moved away.
At any rate the shelves must have been inhabited. These weaker but more adaptable people used their intelligence to create a civilization rather than using mere brawn to wrest a living from Nature.
In the Mediterranean the Southern shelf opposite Malta and Gozo would have been an excellent place to found a city state. The upland ranges surrounding the Basin must have been an astonishing sight of rivers cascading down from the uplands.
The islands must have been imposing awe inspiring sights towering out of the water as mountains. The coastal Atlantean undoubtedly learned to build boats to cruise the placid waters of the long narrow sea.
The majesty of the Nile cascading from what would then have been the first cataract at Giza to the sea in full flood must have been unimaginably awesome as also the mighty roar of water descending from the Black Sea.
And then, apparently within a couple hundred years the ice caps melted returning the seas to their former levels. The achievement of this civilization disappeared beneath the waves as the flood rose, yea verily, even to the mountain tops or as the Egyptians put it, fell into the sea. The evidence of this civilization disappeared beneath the waters.
However there is no reason to believe that the waters rose so fast that the people were destroyed also. No. They undoubtedly fled the rising waters scattering to the margins of the sea or to the uplands of the world.
Some undoubtedly fled into sub-Saharan Africa where over the course of a few centuries they became melanized blending in with the native population. Some formed the Berber tribes. The similarity of Negro mythology to Mediterranean mythology is not accidental but a result of diffusion. The similarity was added to in later centures when exploratory parties from Libya crossed the Sahara.
Man is and always has been an inveterate traveler. Various other bands of Atlanteans penetrated into the uplands of Europe, Asia Minor and the Nile Valley. Some traveled to India and some farther afield to China.
By far, most settled on the margins of the new sea level around the Basin.
Agriculture began simultaneously in every part of the world. Are we to believe that yokels all over the world individually decided to farm at the same time or was the notion diffused by the forcible ejection of farmers from the same area? I leave it to you to make your own decision because argument is useless; nothing can be proven at this time.
My own opinion is that agriculture must have been practiced by the Atlanteans and was diffused in their flight from the inundation.
The largest part of the displaced Atlanteans quite naurally retreated up country to the African littoral occupying that coastal strip incuding the developing area of the Nile Delta where they became known as the Libyans.
The Libyans were always extremely intellectually well developed being ahead of both the ancient Upper Egyptians as well as the later Greeks. Lower Egypt before the unification must then have been an Atlantean kingdom. Where else could the legend of Atlantis come from? Certainly not from the land bound Upper Egypt.
There is an example of attempted agriculture in Upper Egypt at this time but it was abandoned. Why? Certainly not because the proper conditions were lacking. I surmise that a colony of Libyans made the attempt. I think that the novel concept of plowing the ground so outraged the Upper Egyptians that they either killed or drove the Libyans back to the Delta.
It is possible that the Atlanteans developed a system of writing which is reflected in Egyptian hieroglyphics. The followers of Edgar Cayce believe that an ante-deluvian deposit of books lie beneath the paws of the Sphinx in some subterranean passageways. I don’t know that it is true but I don’t find the notion absurd. It is quite possible that the Atlantean priesthood fled with all their sacred writings, if any.
At the same time they most likely carved the image of Leo on the rock outcropping where it sits in a manner akin to Mount Rushmore. So matters stood while the ‘kings’ changed posts in the sky until the Delta Libyans were conquered by the Upper Egyptians about thirty-three hundred BC. The Upper Egyptians remained dominant through the first three dynasties. Then a Libyan dynasty succeeded to the throne. The Red Crown of the Delta was triumphant. Immediately the pent up energies of several thousand years exploded in a building frenzy which we call the Pyramids. The Pyramids must duplicate some notion of the world order of the Atlanteans.
Actually the Pyramids are only the half of the world order that has survived. Just as important as the City of the Dead was the City of the Sun or Heliopolis or the Holy City of On across the Nile to the East. Its monuments were less durable than those of the West and have been all but obliterated by the religious jealously of later Asian conquerors.
Someday it will be found that the whole complex is a great bit of magic meant to preserve earth from another disaster like that which happened to Atlantis.
How do you like that for a strange notion, Dewey?’
‘I never heard anything like it.’ Dewey said for the words had blown through his staggering mind like the Boreas from the North Pole, making the same impression. The notion had little relevance for him as his mind was unprepared to receive it. The requisite foundation of knowledge was not there. Mental preparation is the key. However he was still alert enough to check the logic of the story. There was nothing absurd in the presentation of facts while Gaste seemed to be informed on his subject so he saw no reason to take objection.
‘I have thought a great about what I have just told you, Dewey, and while I have no proof that academics would consider incontrovertible yet something did happen for which no explanation has ever been offered. All lines of inquiry lead to the edge of the water whether Egyptian, Mesopotamian or modern science. You are the only person I have ever told this to. I would never present it to a body of educators. It’s always best to be careful about introducing new and unusual notions that no one has ever heard before. Even J.G. Frazer who was a very careful academic using tried and true methods was attacked. I couldn’t endure that. I couldn’t stand the way my mother and I were treated because of her beliefs. I mght ultimately be proved right on my main theses but I would be attacked on details that couldn’t be verified. I would rather have less honor than to be totally reviled.’
‘Sure, but if everybody thought that way I don’t know how progress would be possible. If Galileo hadn’t advanced the theory that the Earth went round the sun where would we be?’
‘Well, exactly where we are, but yes. Galileo paid a heavy price for speaking in advance of his times. And that price wasn’t in ephemeral fruit either. Ha, ha, ha.’
‘Yes, but I think Mrs. Hicks was right. I’d rather be Galileo any day. I mean, what’s this society going to be like after a lifetime of football, baseball and sports and TV shows that don’t have any logic?’
‘You mean you don’t think there’s anything of value in American culture? You think it’s all ephemeral fruit?’
‘No. I think some things of value are happening but because they have value, because they are substantial fruit they have to slink around in the shadows where only outriders of ephemera can find them. You gott be out there riding those fences.’
‘OK. Where’s that?’
‘Well, you know, I make the midnight run up to San Francisco most Fridays and back again on Sundays. They only let them play silly love songs on daytime radio. But at night you can pick up stations with really maverick outlaw DJs that play some real good music with some real cutting edge meaningful social criticism.
Now, don’t get me wrong, because I think they’re really good and it shows what a high wire balancing act they’re doing but the Kingston Trio gets on daytime radion because rather than criticism they make wry or cute observations. The Kingston Trio have the real genius, don’t get me wrong, but songs like Tiajuana Jail like all pop music is meant to please everyone and offend no one. ‘Tom Dooley’ the same way. They take out the social criticism and give it the real folk ballad flavor and it almost cuts it. You know the Kingstons are biting their tongue though.
At night you get the real stuff, after midnight, by guys like the Chad Mitchell Trio and Tom Paxton. Guys with sharp eyes and witty tongues. So they keep them off daytime radio and these guys are actually lucky to be alive. If it weren’t for freedom of speech you’d find those guys floating down the river.’
‘What? Are you serious? This is America. You can’t do that.’
‘Oh, yes you can. It’s done all the time. Look at this. They didn’t have any room for me in the Navy when I wanted to join. I had to wait seven months for a place to open up. but they make a spot for Elvis Presley just to destroy his career. Then they assign him to the tank corps. How long do you think he’s going to last when the Russkies charge over the line? I think the estimate is seven minutes..
I mean they’re destroying Jerry Lee Lewis. And Little Richard threw all his Jewels in the ocean, gave up rock n’ roll and took to the minstry to escape persecution. I think they would have killed him if he hadn’t. Black or not.’
(In just a couple months Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper will be killed in a small plane crash, the favored form of assassination. Thus the first wave or rock n’ rollers was decimated. the rest of them got the hint.)
‘Who’s this ‘they who’re doing this?’ Gaste asked with the tinge of contemptuous disbelief that people show when they find something distasteful.
‘Oh, you know, Barry Goldwater, John Tower, the John Birch Society, all the social reactionaries that fell out of the McCarthy thing.’ Dewey had no cause to mention McCarthy or even the Conservatives; the reaction to Rock and Folk was very broadly based and included large numbers of so-called Liberals and educated people.
‘Yes, they’re a pretty nutty group.’ This was a strong political opinion for Terry Gaste to express but as a Liberal he considered Conservatives as Neanderthals living in the nineteenth century at best.
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Dewey protested. ‘Conservatives are usually right while Liberals are always wrong.’
Terry Gaste scoffed.
‘You bet. I’m a Conservative but I”m younger than the guys who fought the war for ‘freedom’ but can’t accept the consequences so I can accept modern tastes as natural where they think it’s evil, like, for instance, rock n’ roll. But since they reject the inevitable they’re just old and in the way. They’re still defending the old ideals in an antiquated obtuse way.
When Mighty J…um…McCarthy went down…’ Dewey almost committed a social faux pas by treating McCarthy as a valid person and not a demon but corrected himself in time. After all Freedom of Conscience has its limits even in America. ‘…these guys were all turned out in the Wasteland. They were overwhelmed, they don’t know how to get there from here; so they persecute anyone who dares to criticize their point of view either explicitly or implicitly, friend or foe. They would kill these folksingers if they weren’t college graduates and they thought they could get away with it. They’re destroying their careers already or, at least, trying to inhibit them.’
(Barry Goldwater would actually force Chad Mitchell out of the business because of a very funny parody of him called ‘Barry’s Boys.’ Anyone with a conflicting opinion walked on gilded splinters.)
‘Well, we Liberals aren’t wrong on the ideal. But Conservatives agree on the ideal. After all there are reactionaries allied to the Conservatives just as radicals go hand in glove with Liberals. Reactionaries and Radicals disagree on what should be done; Conservatives and Liberals disagree on how it should be done.
There is no question that Blacks have not been given equal opportunities but that is all they’re entitled to. The question is at bottom a social question not a racial one. White guys from the other side of the tracks have been denied equal opportunity too so the problem is how to take down the barriers for everybody not to keep sanctions on the White underclass while releasing the Blacks. That’s what the Liberals want to do.
What will happen is that discrimination won’t end it will just shift. You Liberals will make the White guys from the other side of the tracks pay the whole price of integration and call that fair. You will take from them to give to the Blacks but you won’t give up one smidgen yourselves. Even then you completely reject Black culture.
You say you can’t understand the lyrics of Little Richard because he doesn’t articulate but really you can’t understand him because he speaks in the Black idiom. You will admit only those Blacks who will play your game by your rules, adopt your styles and manners, your way of talking. They ain’t no ghetto eight rock ever gon’ be admitted to polite White society. So there’s going to be a big blow up.’
‘I think you’re wrong there. Black people want what we want. I think they’re intelligent, decent people who will find it is their best interest to adopt better manners and improve their speech and they will do so. I see a smooth assimilation.’
‘Won’t happen. It’s not in the interest of Blacks and guys from the other side of the tracks to play your game because you control the game and your rules are always you win, outsiders lose. You will only give on humiliating terms. Therefore Blacks will have to riot to get any respect at all. Has to happen. Trouble coming every day.
Besides, nobody’s saying that Blacks are stupid or mean and nasty. Liberals always assume that if you don’t believe exactly as they do that you believe the opposite of their views. They demonize you into beliving all kinds of atrocious things. You guys all think that your beliefs are virtuous and that you are therefore virtuous. Anyone who disgrees with you is not.
Besides, it doesn’t matter whether Blacks are intelligent or not; that’s just one of your smokescreens. My point is that you won’t accept them unless they imitate you and abandon Black culture. They have to become off color White to pass among you. Some will do that. But they’re going to be an awful lot can’t or won’t know how or want to. Then it is inevitable that Conservative or reactionary Blacks will reject the whole notion of becoming intellectually White anyway. They’ll probably come up with some such slogan as ‘Black Is Beautiful And White Isn’t.’
Needless to say the trends Dewey was percipient enough to anticiapate had been developing in the Black community since they migrated from the South to Harlem and Chicago. They would lead to some very interesting twists on the ‘minority’ scene.
The discontent expressed in the ‘Back to Africa’ movement of Marcus Garvey in the teens and twenties would go through many transformations and end up as the Nation of Islam which was the conservative direction Dewey knew must happen. The process was already happening although Whites didn’t understand it or report it properly in their newspapers and journals.
Looking ahead, in the eighties and nineties the movement was headed by Louis Farrakhan. He was a decent sort who took the right approach of trying to put things into an historical perspective. Education for Blacks in short. The Black perspective must necessarily step on White Folk’s toes. They simply must interpret their history in their own way regardless of White people’s opinions. Something in the Constitution about freedom of speech. One can only assert oneself at someone else’s expense. As Farrakhan was organizing an independent Black analysis of history he was naturally rejected by the so-called Liberal community. One of those ‘anyone but him’ type things.
In 1958 the word ‘bigot’ was rarely used. ‘Prejudice’ was more usual but understanding the difference is essential to understanding the temper and tone of subsequent decades.
Traditionally a bigot was one who had an unreasoning belief in the rightness of his own point of view. Thus during he Enlightenment Catholicism was always referred to as bigoted because it wouldn’t, and still can’t, tolerate another religious point of view. this is true of any faith whether Judaism, Nazism, Comunism, Moslemism or what have you. Infidels, unbelievers, anti-Semites, the part of the world that is not of your faith can be despised and reviled.
Beginning about this time, 1958, the word ‘bigot’ began to take on a different coloring. It began to mean a White Christian who was unwilling to bend the knee to other races, religions or creeds. In other words, a Christian could a bigot but a Jew couldn’t; a White could be a bigot but a Black couldn’t.
It was not enough for White Christians to be tolerant; one was compelled to assert that all other races, creeds and religions were more worthy than your own and more pointedly, you. ‘Hey, hey, ho, ho, Western Civilization has got to go became the war cry. One was constrained to accept such absurdities as voodoo or fetish worship as respectable religious expressions. People even demanded that animal sacrifices be legalized.
Thus the freedom of religion clause of the Constitution was used to overturn reason.
In this conception of bigotry two groups, for certain, claimed exemption from bigotry, the Blacks and the Jews. Vis-a-vis White Christians (which includes the Scientific Consciousness) this could cause no problems as Whites were willing to abdicate their identity to Blacks and Jews.
Then the unthinkable happened. The minority coalition turnout to be not so monolithic. Analyzing their history the scholars of the Nation of Islam began to say uncomplimentary things about their erstwhile allies, the Jews.
In reviewing history Louis Farrakhan and his Minister of Culture found that Black Folk had been exploited by the Jews. The Nation of Islam declared this and were promptly branded as infidels or, anti-Semites.
What now? How to deal with intra-minority conflicts in the Haven of the world?
In 1870 there were not many Jews in the US. Then the transfer of the Jewish population of Eastern Europe began. By 1920 there were four million Jews in the US.
The Jews have always blamed America the Beautiful for the transformation of Jewish culture that apparently happened on these shores. In truth there was no transformation. The changes already begun in the Old Cuntry were accelerated.
The International White Slave Trade was the first unit of organized crime. That business was called into existence by the wholesale emigration of Europeans to not only the United States but to all of North and South America, South Africa, Australia and diverse points, Shanghai for instance. There were millions of men without women.
The Jews rushed to fill the void by supplying the women. This in turn created gangsterism as we know it. Jewish gangs were thus not a creation of the New World but had already developed in the Pale even as they now dominate Jewish society in Israel.
When the Jews emigrated to New York, the home of the scientific consciusness, they already had a history of socialism and gangsterism. The loss of traditional values was only exacerbated by the opportunities to be found in the New World.
Jewish gangsters dominated the New York criminal scene giving the city a criminal tincture epitomized in the movie ‘Guys And Dolls.’ These criminals were no lovable Nathan Detroits either.
One of the most notorious was a psychopath by the name of Arthur Flegenheimer who as a nom de guerre assumed the name of Dutch Shultz. Flegenheimer was of such a social disposition that in the course of a conversation he inserted the barrel of his pet .45 into the mouth of his acquaintance and pulled the trigger. Oh sure, the gun was loaded. Whether you took it as a joke or not depended on which end of the barrel you was at. Flegenheimer laughed.
Foibles such as this can make a man’s reputation. The boy’s act was so much admired that you see its replication in movie after movie today.
This Flegenheimer was in the numbers racket. He worked Harlem.
Now, Harlem from the turn of the century until a few years before 1920 had been a Jewish colony. In anticipation of the rush uptown from the Lower East Side Jewish developers had outsized the rush by a large number of excess apartments. You see, immigration was a very large industry, considered to be a growth industry by some.
The growth was choked off by the Great War placing the developers in a position developers don’t like to be in. Bankruptcy loomed. The internal migration of the Blacks which began about then was a godsend. That’s why Harlem is Black.
The Black Folk migrated from the Deep South where they had a rural existence. They were bumpkins in the White sense. They had also been held in political subjection, denied education and economic opportunity. Thus Black Folk faced a terrific psychological dilemma. They not only moved from one State to another and from one culture to another but from one era to another. Their migration South to North was actually the equivalent of moving from Europe to America, from the nineteenth to the twentieth century. Even their language was different.
Not only was there geographic displacement but they moved up a couple ratchets of time ways into a burgeoning technological twentieth century that even the Whites who were creating it didn’t understand. Whites were desperately trying to acclimatise themselves to this new environment; Blacks were a good generation and a couple light years behind. In addition Blacks were still treated as subhuman in New York. They were still denied equal opportunities but their expenses climbed dramatically. Only the lowest jobs on the ladder were open to them.
In those days Whites could exhibit their racial pride in ways that are no longer open to them. No one is any longer accorded the scope of referring to Blacks as monkeys, apes or subhumans. Flegenheimer and Jewish gangsters were children of their times. They did refer to Blacks in those terms as they fleeced the poor devils of the hard earned by the numbers racket. Just because you win don’t mean you get paid.
We’ll probably never know how many Blacks were murdered for complaining and similar offences to their betters. One may assume that a real guy who was capable of inserting the barrel of .45 automatics into mouths during the course of a normal conversation was not overly nice in running his complaint department.
These were real injuries suffered by Black people as a race at the hands of the Jewish people. Mr. Farrakham according to the mores of our times had a right to request an apology as well as a cash indemnity of a substantial size from the Jews.
Oh, but the Jews, it may be argued, can’t be condemned as a whole people for the actions of one man.
Here’s where we get into some real hair splitting: this is where the faithful and the infidels separate.
Well, but, Mr. Farrakham might argue, according to Jewish rules you can. Certainly the German people by this logic could not be held responsible for the actions of this individual named Adolf Hitler. But the Jews do say the whole of the German people are responsible. Postwar Germans have sent billions of dollars in reparations to Israel, a State the did not exist during the Second World War.
Certainly the Jews of New York were well aware of Flegenheimer’s activities; they were splashed across the front pages of every New York daily. Mr. Farrakham might easily have demanded a few hundred millions indemnity from Israel to the Nation of Islam neither of which had been in existence in Flegenheimer’s time.
Logic, naturally enough, has nothing to do with faith. An act can easily be right for oneself but wrong for another. I don’t know what principle of law that might be applied but I’m sure one can be found or created.
Now, here’s an interesting point. Jews had suffered in Europe. Blacks had suffered in the United States. Thousands of Black had been killed since Emancipation; Jews never had.
Blacks had suffered at Jewish hands; Jews had never suffered at Black hands; not only in Harlem. Jews had been the dominant people in the slave trade. Jews had ridden out with the first Ku Klux Klan. It is possible to quantify Black suffering. Blacks were psychologically defenseless. They had been stripped of all security on coming to the New World. So much of their abuse had been on the psychological level. Blacks were compelled to accept the White opinion of themselves that they were stupid, shiftless and no account. Denied the right to decent employment and the self-respect that brings, perhaps the conclusion was inescapable, even to themselves.
Black women were less of a threat than Black men so Black men suffered the double injury of being comparatively less effective than White men while being subjected to their women who found it easier to get work.
Hence what appears to be a bizarre psychological reaction by Black men to difficult if not impossible circumstance. Liberals of Terry Gaste’s stamp cannot even begin to understand the Black man’s place in American society.
The ability to assert one’s identity has to come from within it cannot be enforced by an assumed attitude. For that reason Louis Farrakham organized the million man march on Washington. The march had a salutary effect on the pride and self-assurance of Black men.
The idea was not unreasonable but the reaction to all those Black men gettig uppity was. Efforts were renewed to discredit Farrakhan.
Now, the Jews had never suffered oppression in the United States. They were more offending than offended against. The Jews glory in a four thousand year history of oppression. Judaism never forgets nor can it make a reasonable allowance for its own reprehesible actions.
Young Jews go through an intense psychological indoctrination. The notions are not a matter of education but inculcation. They are stamped into the brains of the youths. About twenty-five hundred years ago a man acquired a very bad reputation among the Jews. That man was called Haman. He was a man who became a symbol. During one of the Jewish holidays a story is read. At every mention of the name Haman the congregants break out into a wild orgy of hate filled screaming and shrieking.
Receiving this Pavlovian training against Haman at the mere mention of the name an automatic reaction is conditioned. Thus if it were said, as it was, that Henry Ford was another Haman every Jew could and did turn toward him with concentrated hatred beaming from their eyes. Louis Farrakham became the Black Haman.
The question became which minority was going to have to bend the knee to the other. There could be only one group of champion sufferers. Which was going to be the top sufferer? The Blacks had been suffering for only three hundred years in the United States; the Jews, not the same Jews as in the United States, but the generic entity called Jews, had been suffering for four thousand years, sometime, somewhere in the world. That’s a pretty good record for suffering, still if you’re going to get sentimental abut suffering one can negate the Jewish claim and say that suffering is the lot of mankind. If you’ve got a higher trump, let’s see it.
The Jewish organization was more powerful than the Nation of Islam. Louis Farrakham and his Minister of Culture were held up to ridicule as anti-Semites. This powerful and authentic voice of his people was driven from the counsels of his country.
The President should have had tete-a-tetes with him for he represented a formidable component of American minorities, which is to say, all American peoples. But Louis Farrakhan is called an anti-Semite. He is therefore considered subhuman. Now we’re back to Arthur Flegenheimer and the apes.
What will come of this?
Historically no very promising results are in the offing.
The Jewish role in history has been one of appalling destruction. The Jews always claim to be innocent victims while the rest of the world are savage beasts. They have been quite successful in convincing the world it is so. Don’t hate me for being a dissenter; after all truth is on my side, not faith, but truth.
Take it back to that allegory of Jesus on the cross. Apart from modern theorizing, what the story says and what the world has always believed is this: J.C. comes bringing the light of love into the world. As the son of God he brought a new Dispensation from God invalidating the Old Dispensation between He and the Jews. Travel or something like it had broadened God’s view. Formerly the tale had been told that God especially loved his chosen people the Jews. But it is now written that God so loved the WORLD that the sent his only begotten to redeem not the just the Jews but everyone in the whole world. He’s got the whole world in his hands.
This notion was a frontal attack on Judaism. Had the Jews accepted the notion they would have been no more than any other ethnic component of the world. For in rendering unto Caesar that which Caesar’s and unto God all that was God’s all national distinctions would have been erased. One world, one people. Pretty communistic, eh?
Threatened in the worst possible way by what they considered a false messiah their religious authorities complained to Caesar, denounced Jesus as a criminal thus rendering to Caesar that which was Caesar’s. I think there’s actually a joke in there. In terms familiar to the Catholic Church which derives its basis from Judaism the spiritual authorities tried Jesus first, finding him guilty of heresy. In a term of the Catholic Inquisition they then ‘relaxed’ Jesus to the civil authorities for execution.
The religious are supreme hypocrites. They do not kill on their own account they ‘relax’ victims to be killed by others. By this means they think to wash their hands of blood guilt. Thus Pilate washes his hands of the blood of Jesus as a pointed gesture to the untainted hands of the religious authorities. His hands will be no bloodier than theirs. The Catholic Church employed this method from beginning to end of the Inquistion. The concept is a very important one which must be understood.
On this principle the Jews can say with a certain plausibility that the Roman killed Jesus and not themselves.
The result of the execution of Jesus was the horrible wars between Jews and Romans that shook the foundations of the world. The Jews were nearly exterminated while the Empire began its decline. This sort of provocation and result has continued down through history.
A quite similar occurrence took place in the United States in 1953. The Jewish Rosenbergs were accused of having given the secrets of the Atom Bomb to the Soviets, which they had. As with Jesus the Rosenbergs were tried in a Jewish court of law. They had a Jewish judge and a Jewish prosecutor and were defended by a Jewish lawyer. None of the officials operated independently of the ADL and the AJC. So, one may say the Rosenbergs were tried by the Sanhedrin- Jewish spiritual authorities.
Found guilty they were condemned to death, just as Jesus had been, then ‘relaxed’ to the American civil authorities for execution. Today the Jews can and do claim the Rosenbergs were unnecessarily and unjustly executed by Americans in a wanton display of anti-Semitism.
An age old principle finds its way down through the ages into modern times.
So, this brings us down to Haman Louis Farrakhan who has been tried and condemned by the Jewish spiritual authorities as an arch anti-Semite. They demand he be placed outside the Pale, cut off from human society. Whether Jewish, Catholic or any other faith the heretic must be denied communion with the faithful. He must be placed ouside the law. That’s what outlaw means.
But, Louis Farrakhan is the leader of a very numerous ‘minority.’ A minority which is essential to both the physical and spiritual well being of the United States. After all they are ‘native sons.’ Whereas the President ought to be conferring with Mr. Farrakhan about the problems of Black Folk he is spurned by the White House. It is certain that were he invited the Jews would begin the Haman shriek disturbing us all.
This is unjust.
What is Mr. Farrakhan to do?
What he has done is hold conferences with the arch enemies of the United States such as Saddam Hussein. This is regrettable even deplorable. However he has been declared an outlaw in his own country by his own people. He has been politically lynched as an anti-Semite.
There are forty-five million Black folk dispersed throughout the United States. Acts of Islamic terrorism have already occurred in America. What if, by a union of Arab and Black terrorists, the United States is turned into a bloody battlefield? What if America’s enemies destroy America from within as, say Iraq, was destroyed from above? What good will stealth bombers do against domestic terrorists?
What will the Jews who will have brought this situation about say then? Farrakhan had been ‘relaxed’ to the civil authorities and the result was America’s own fault and not theirs. What is worse the Government who listened to them and heeded or themselves? Thus the Government elevates one ‘minority’ over another. This is sort of like Congress establishing a religion which it is forbidden to do.
Is this the result of a liberalism that will accept Negroes only on its own terms? Dewey had every reason to believe that Conservatives were more practical in their understanding and resolution of problems.
‘I don’t think it will happen that way.’ Terry mused.
‘Liberals are always wrong but time will tell. Besides, Terry, Blacks don’t have any idea what the game is or how to play it. They’ve always been kept so far outside that the rules don’t make sense to them; they’ll have to make their own. Then you Liberals will feel betrayed. The problem is just too difficult for an easy resolution. There has to be trouble. Watch out.
So Conservatives understand problems as well as Liberals do but Conservatives have an accurate understanding of the issues, human nature and results and Liberals don’t.’
Although he disagreed with Dewey down the line Terry Gaste found this conversation more gratifying than Dewey’s earlier discourse on his love life. Now that they were getting close to Benton Harbor he began to be concerned that Dewey still intended to hitchhike across Michigan.
‘You know, you really ought to think about taking a bus from Benton Harbor. There is almost no traffic at night. You’ll have a very difficult time getting a ride and it’s so cold. You might freeze to death, literally.’
Dewey’s resolve to hitch collapsed at Gaste’s words. He caved in. He’d been out there much longer than those forty-eight hours he’d planned on.
Gaste was kind enough to drop him at the Greyhound station in Benton Harbor even though he would have to drive back to St. Joseph. As chance would have it Dewey arrived just as a bus was about to leave. A few minutes later Dewey was bouncing in a near empty bus across the last stretch into the Valley.
Ain’t No More Cookies In This Cookie Jar
Seated on the bus vague shapes seemed to pass before his eyes in the sepulchral darkness until the dull light of the northern winter entered his eyes as the bus passed through St. Charles. Rosy fingered Dawn was hidden behind the low thick clouds.
Dewey was very, very tired by this time, worn out, mentally exhausted by his last effort at conversation with Terry Gaste. His mind wasn’t wandering or anything of that sort but it had no fixed point of concentration. Terry’s words seemed to ricochet through his mind without making an impression.
As tired as he was, nervous energy was driving him as though he were in the pink of condition. He had now been on the road with no sleep for five days. Had he taken the bus in San Diego as intended he would have arrived forty-eight hours earlier. That was when he’d told his mother he’d be there. He had forgotten to tell them he was going to hitchhike or, rather, he believed he would have been there in forty-eight hours. It would have been a surprise.
Now, groggy from hunger and lack of sleep on the bus his mind had slipped. He believed he was on his original plan. Thus as he stepped off the bus he expected to be met. His disappointment was bitter. He never did realize why no one was there and he never forgave them.
He had carefully arranged himself, clothes, face and attitude on the bus. He was not an effusive guy but now he planned a warm greeting. He planned to throw his arms around his mother- it was Christmas.
He wore a silly little smile on his face as he stepped off the bus. He kept it there for several minutes as he walked around the small bus station looking for her. Rather than keep his despair to himself he walked over to the ticket window to ask the attendant if anyone had been waiting for him.
“Has anyone left a message for Dewey Trueman?’ He asked hopefully.
‘No. No one.’ The attendant said looking up briefly with the wry smile of someone who’s been through this before and hopes the answer will suffice.
Desolated, Dewey accepted the answer. Then he noticed how cold it was. Ten degrees Fahrenheit, but above zero, thank god.
Along with the atmospheric cold enveloping his body, psychological cold enveloped his mind. The demons of the past oppressed him. Perhaps coming back hadn’t been such a good idea; perhaps he should have hung around Lake Arrowhead.
He would have to walk home. The walk didn’t bother him, walking was what he did best, but he felt the taunting eyes of his enemies staring out from windows or driving by with silent smiles.
He needn’t have worried. Over half his class in the recession of 1956 had gone into the services. None of them were around and if any were they were on leave themselves, too busy to concern themselves with him. Some classmates had hightailed it out of town at their first opportuniy in an attempt to escape the oppression. Those who had gone to college were either not home yet or not coming home. Nevertheless his progress down Melmoth Avenue was noted; the busybodies are never still.
As he walked he began to grow visibly weaker. By the time he reached the house on Caterina he was clenching his teeth. He wanted to go to bed. Usually the back door was unlocked but when he turned the knob he found himself locked out. He pounded on the door although he knew no one would be home, searched for a hidden key. No answer, no key. He went around to the front door hammered and rang the bell. No answer. He rang the bell unmercifully in wild desperation. Still no answer.
He walked around the house a couple times like the moron in the story who, having found himself locked out, ran around the house until he was all in. Finally in desperation he was standing in the back yard with his hands on his hips glowering angrily at the windows of the back porch turning to a truly desperate frame of mind.
Big boys don’t cry. Dewey was too exhausted to cry although a tear tried to form in either eye. As he stood thus in the freezing air not knowing what to do and incapable of examining his alternatives Alicia Ikestead stepped out of her back door the second lot over and called to him: ‘Dewey, Dewey.’
Dewey looked over. He was horrified that he would have to speak to an Ikestead. The ends of his mind were already flapping wildly, snapping in the hurricane of disjointed emotions released by his abandonment. Now the demons contained in the right side of the brain in that dead spot above the ear were partially released blending with the shame and fear of the blighted hopes of the past. Visions of mortifications danced before his eyes like stars caused by a concussion to the back of the head.
His breathing, if breathing it was, came fitfully and hard against the frigid air or was suspended while he struggled for control of his being.
The Ikesteads, for no fault of their own that Dewey had ever been able to discover, had always been the most despised family on the street. No one would ever have thought to speak to them. Dewey, against all the principles he held sacred, had acquiesced in this prejudice. Indeed, as he had sought to secure his own self-respect against the batterings of society he had kept them beneath him to ensure his own sense of worth. Even then his self-esteem had been badly shaken.
The Ikesteads, like all those held in contempt, had turned their rejection against themselves. Tormented by others, feeling the pangs of worthlessness they had in turn mercilessly tormented each other.
As a justification of Dewey’s contempt for them he always remembered that Alicia had chased her brother out this same back door from which she was now addressing him brandishing a carving knife. He alone had witnessed the scene but he projected knowledge of it on everyone. As he knew of nothing else to soundly establish their inferiority the scene had been the cornerstone of his contempt.
If the Ikesteads were held in contempt it was also true that Tuistad and his mother, he and his brother were held in little regard. This was a matter of deep chagrin for in Dewey’s inner sanctum he held himself in high regard and rightly so. His home life under Tuistad and his mother had been very distressful and unhappy reinforcing the unhappiness of his life in society to the point of insanity.
At one dinner, which was always the focal point for creating frustration in him by Tuistad, he had laid his fork down to exclaim to the infernal gods: “Life can’t always be this bad.’ but it always was or worse.
Louis, his brother, suffered all plus bore the brunt of Dewey’s despair. Thus in one of their ceaseless fights Louis grabbed a knife and chased Dewey out the back door. The scene had been witnessed. The effect had been catastrophic on Dewey. The interface between he and the Ikesteads had been breached. Dewey’s self-respect was jeopardized.
Shortly thereafter he witnessed Daryl Sonderman chase his brother Ward out of their house kitty corner to Dewey’s. Daryl had been wielding a knife. Dewey’s arch enemies, the Sondermans, had witnessed the same scene between himself and Louis and were parodying or ridiculing Dewey as he had felt toward the Ikesteads.
They made a mistake. For while Dewey recognized that they were attempting to ridicule him their parody could be taken at face value; Dewed did so defusing their joke. The Sondermans in their hatred unconsciously made Dewey a gift of his self-respect which they would never have done consciously.
As the Sondermans considered themselves part of the elite the effect was that Dewey could raise himself considerably. The effect was also one of obliterating the basis of the contempt of the Ikesteads that he held.
Dewey had never ever consciously thought of the three incidents but as his contempt of the Ikesteads had been breached by the incident of the Sondermans he was able to speak to Alicia now.
Dewey didn’t even know the girl’s first name. Startled he turned with his customary contempt to see what she wanted. Thoroughly beaten down Alicia did not question or appear to resent Dewey’s unjust attitude. He had been gone for two years; he would never again be part of this scene. As by a miracle all those prejudices were dispelled from his mind. He softened his contempt then let it fall from him as no longer relevant. He suddenly saw his former attitude as an evil that had been forced on him by the contempt of others for him.
‘What…what is it?’ He elided a crab to a coo.
‘Well, Dewey…’ Alicia said very pleased to have an excuse to talk to someone she considered superior. ‘…your mother asked me to tell you that they’ve gone to Waukegan and won’t be back till after New Years.’
Dewey was stunned. Twenty-five hundred miles, five days on the road, dirty and exhausted and he was now less at the end of his journey than when he began. His exhausted weary mind flapped in the North wind.
‘Gone to Waukegan?’ He croaked. ‘In Illinois?’
‘Yes. Your father’s gotten a promotion. They’re going to move there.’
Dewey’s mother hadn’t seen fit to tell him. This was news. Dewey’s tired mind was unable to rationalize his situation. His conscious and subconscious minds were comingled while the right side of his brain released a steady stream of demons sometimes also known as voices. All his repressed thoughts and emotions shot up into his conscious mind which was unable to digest or control the molten lava of his soul.
‘They gave a message to me.’ Alicia said stringing out her information so as to prolong the delicious sensation of talking to someone other than her family.
Dewey just stared at her dumbly unable to form a sentence in reply to her.
‘They said you were to go over to your grandmother’s and she would take you in.’
She would take you in. The words caromed around Dewey’s brain amid the centrifugal and centripetal explosions of his mind whirling end over end inside and outside his brain.
She would take him in.
How many times would his mother put him out to foster homes? This was the last. He would give her no more opportunities.
At least he had some idea of what to do other than head back. He thanked the girl with as much civility as he could muster.
He gathered his remaining wits about him, picked up his bag and trudged off through the cold to grandma’s house. She wasn’t even his real grandmother; she was his step-father’s mother. She had given him no reason to care for her and now he developed an unreasoning dislike of her. Both she and his mother not to mention his mother’s mother. What a group of cold unloving women they were. There was nothing of the mother about any of them.
This was the final rejection by his mother that he could take. First she had put him in foster homes, then into the municipal orphanage. After that she had driven him into the Navy. Now, she didn’t even have the decency to inform him that she wouldn’t be home when he got there.
Perhaps Alicia Ikestead had not used her exact words but maybe she had. Maybe that was exactly what his mother meant. He was not of her; his grandmother would take him in. Twenty years of fobbing him off on other people and now his grandmother would take him in.
And then, my god, she insulted him by using the Ikesteads to tell him. What kind of calculated insult was that? Did she hate him so much that she chose someone he considered beneath him to tell him. Since when had she spoken to the Ikesteads? Never in his memory.
Was she telling him that that twenty year old girl she had been when she gave him birth had resented her pregnancy so much that she could not cease punishing her child? If so, he didn’t think much of her either.
Dewey neither hated nor resented he only condemned. He now condemned his mother to the seventh layer of hell as coldly and dispassionately as any judge in court. He struck her from his mind, so to speak. She was no longer among the living.
Walking along, breathing heavily as he labored against his fatigue he worked up what little rage he could. then, like an arrow shot in the air in California on a trajectory seemingly designed to hit him here the memory of Dalton Dagger pierced his mind.
Dagger said he would find him in the Valley. Dewey knew he would try. Dewey wasn’t afraid so much but he did want to avoid unpleasantness. He didn’t want to give Dalton the twenty dollars that he thought he expected but if you called the police on a guy like Dagger who had no fear of consequences, if fact, didn’t recognize them, there was no telling what he might do.
So Dewey’s mind drew on the tangled skein of emotions as he covered the fifteen blocks to grandma’s house. Finally he stood on the sidewalk before her door.
‘She’d darn well better be here.’ He spoke out loud in audible despair.
In truth he would have collapsed on the spot and frozen to death if the door hadn’t opened.
His brother Louis opened the door. ‘Dewey. Boy, what took you so long. We expected you a couple days ago.’
‘Yeah, well, what a trip. I came up route sixty-six.’ He said savagely, angry with himself for the debacle of the last five days.
‘What happened?’ Louis asked excitedly astonished at Dewey’s appearance.
‘I’ll have to tell you later Louis. I haven’t had any sleep since San Diego and I’m really tired.’ Dewey had lost track of time completely. He had no idea how long exactly he’d been on the road.
‘By the way if someone named Dalton Dagger comes to the door don’t open it. Tell him I never showed up.’
Dewey staggered upstairs. As there was no room for him in the sacred room formerly occupied by his step-father and his step-uncle and his aunt’s room was occupied by his brother an army cot was set up in the hallway for Dewey.
Too tired to protest he wrapped a blanket around his clothes and all and fell into the army cot asleep. As he flopped down his hat fell off rolling across the floor.
The Green Green Grass Of Home
While Dewey slept Dalton Dagger rolled into town. He was only four hours behind Dewey. In fact if Dewey had elected to hitchike from Benton Harbor Dalton would have overtaken him to roll up alongside him in the dark. Had that been the case then Dewey would most probably have been found at the bottom of a ditch when the snow melted.
When Dewey had disappeared into Oklahoma Dalton’s interest had immediately shifted to his car. In his peculiar thought processes he believed that the Amarillo mechanics owed it to him to fix his car at their most reasonable rate. It was the same as his belief that Yisraeli owed him the balance of Dewey’s death price whether he killed him or not. Likewise Dalton believed that Dewey belonged to him because he had a contract on his life. Dalton was very good at forming indissoluble unilateral bonds.
Thus the intensity of his demand that Dewey ask the Darrels to give him a ride had been so compelling that Dewey had acted against his own will in the matter. Yisraeli had still to learn that the man he was dealing with was not as disposable as a pair of infant’s diapers. Thus when Dalton strode back into the garage grounds the mechanics gave him all their attention. Wisely so.
When I say Dalton strode I mean that he walked with the assertive self-confidence of a man who had shown the Marines what one of the few good men really looked like. There was definitely no diffidence in his walk; John Wayne would have gotten out of the way. He had the confident walk of a lion who was not to be denied. As the poet put it: The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold.
The mechanics still thought they had the upper hand but they were mistaken.
‘Alright fellas, how long is it going to take to fix up my car. I’ve got to get back on the road in a hurry.’
‘Well…’ Saul Grampas the owner and chief mechanic began in that drawling manner that betrays that the mechanic has no intention of telling you the truth about anything and is going to steal every dime he can. ‘…we can’t be sure how bad the damage is, you know, the block is sure to be cracked. Radiator’s definitely shot. I don’t know how long it’ll take us to find one for this…what is this?…’53 Olds, uh huh. If we can’t get a new one and the dealer might not have one in stock anyway, might have one, might not, you know, it might take, oh I don’t know, maybe three or four days to get one down here from Denver.’
‘You’re full of shit, man. You can fix this thing in a couple hours. If you don’t have a radiator here you can get one right away or youcan jury rig another one. I have to be on the road right away so stop jawing and get the cork out. I’ll help you. Come on, hurry up. That other stuff can wait.’
‘Now, just a minute, fella.’ Saul said stepping forward intimidatingly.
‘Uh uh, no just a minute.’ Dalton said stepping into Saul and raising his fist with a look of conviction on his face that said Saul was a dead man.
Saul’s assistant, Slim Weazel, picked up a monkey wrench and glared at Dalton. Slim lacked the concentrated force in his gaze that was needed to give his actions conviction.
Dalton seized a four foot iron bar that was leaning against a stack of tread bare tires, held it before him grasped in the middle so he could thrust or club. Dalton was a very formidable guy. At six-two he was still compact and sturdy as a statue. That combined with an eager demonic light that came into his eyes made the mechanics who were less committed to a savage set-to quail. Saul didn’t take a step back but he rocked on his heels. As he did Dalton gave a nearly imperceptible sardonic smile and, while without actually moving, intimated his intent to smack Saul with the right end of the iron bar. Saul’s eyes involuntarily fixed on it.
‘I can call the police?’ Slim said shakily, involuntarily making it a question, his eyes fixed on Dalton’s iron bar. Put into this form of a semi-question the statement confirmed Dalton in his conviction that he was the winner.
‘Go ahead and try. You’ll never reach the phone. Both you guys’ll be laid out here. Besides what’re you going to tell them? You’re trying to cheat me out of my car?’
‘If you hurt us you’ll go to jail.’ Slim said wealkly, capitulating.
‘So fuckin’ what? I just got out. You’ll still be dead. Is my going to jail worth that?’ Dalton replied with a fiendish grin.
Dalton’s bravado worked. When he showed no fear of the consequences of violence Saul thought it best to just fix the damn car and get this lunatic out of there.
With Dalton’s help they did. Dalton even remembered to put anti-freeze in this time. Thus in two hours Dalton was back in shape. He even cut his own deal on the repair bill forcing Saul to settle for half of what he asked.
Then hunger and drowsiness overtaking him, he first had a good substantial T-bone then holed up in a motel for some rest.
At twelve-thirty in the afternoon as Dewey lay sleeping he entered the Valley. Dalton and his family were known quantities to certain people in the Valley even thought the Daltons were from Bay City. their character was feared and despised. Dalton did not know he was that well known so unbeknownst to him the rules of the road changed to the rules of reputation.
Anyone with intelligence might have found it difficult to locate Trueman’s address not knowing his parents’ name. But Dalton knowing Dewey lived on the West Side using a certain illogic that worked obtained directions to the major intersection of Court and Melmoth. Once there he went into Trinkow’s drug store and loudly demanded if anyone knew where Dewey Trueman lived.
His method may appear crude but his results were concrete. As it happened a busybody named John Dickman who had been in Dewey’s class at Melville was present. He looked up.
‘Dewey Trueman’s not here. He left town two years ago.’ He said eyeing Dagger with curiosity. Without necessarily being famous the Dagger family was notorious to those who dealt in histories of this fashion. The majority of the residents in the Valley had never heard of the Daggers yet they were very well known in certain circles, the police for instance.
As noted Dalton was of a species of savage wild man. The family was not unknown within prison walls. There was usually at least one member of the family inside at any given time. Dickman, as a busybody, knew many arcane facts about many obscure people. He cherished any story that brought another man or woman below his level. He lived to despise others. He was not unuseful to the authorities.
‘Yeah, he is.’ Dalton grunted, menacing the world before it menaced him. ‘I’m a Navy buddy of his. He’s on leave and I’m supposed to meet him here. I lost his address.’
Dickman thought itover quickly as he sized up Dalton. He had never seen Dagger but with sure intuition he guessed who he was merely from his manner. Dickman bore goodwill to no man; they all fall sooner or later as he put it. Dickman had pissed on the best of them. He craved excitement at the expense of others. He thought Dagger might provide some amusement for him.
‘His family lives not too far from here. Here let me show you.’ The guy had the instincts of a natural born reporter; first on any scene.
Dickman led Dalton to the house on Caterina St. Fortunately for Dewey they only went to the front door. Had they gone around to the back there is no question but that Alicia Ikestead would have helpfully sent them to grandma’s house. They would have been at Dewey’s door.
No one answered nor was any movement visible inside so Dalton dismissed Dickman. He didn’t thank him; he dismissed him, much more than Dickman deserved.
Dalton, who now thought Dewey owed him two hundred dollars for the expenses incurred in Amarillo as well as his life hung around town until six-thirty when he went back to the house a second time. Disappointed again he drove on up to Bay City intending to come back on the weekend.
Dalton was not a man to waste time. At eight-thirty he was on the phone to Yehouda Yisraeli. Yehouda was stunned. Like all men who think they are clever he thought everyone he dealt with was stupid. He believed he was dealing incognito with Dalton because of the aliases and blinds he had put up. Dalton had his own file on Yisraeli, including his phone number.
There is a criminal network too.
‘Where’d you get my number?’ He stammered incautiously.
Dalton ignored him.
‘Alright, the job’s done. I fulfilled my end of the deal so get my twenty-five hundred wired to me immediately, first thing. I’ll pick it up at Western Union, twelve sharp, tomorrow. It had better be there.’
‘You’ve fulfilled the contract?’
‘That’s right. Send the money.’
‘How do I know?’
‘Because I said so. Send the money.’
‘I have to be sure.’
‘Well, I can come back there and plant you under the same cactus, Alligator. You dig that?’
There was a pause then Yehouda said firmly: ‘Alright. The job’s done, the money will be there.’
‘It better be if you know what’s good for you.’ Dalton threatened slamming down the receiver.
Yisraeli believed Dalton. He rejoiced that his enemy was dead. He had no intention of sending Dalton twenty-five hundred dollars. Yisraeli was shrewd. Being from the Valley and having been influential there he was able to place Dagger firmly when the latter was back in his home environment.
‘Oh, those Daggers.’ He said to himself.
He reasoned that Dalton had just gotten out of the brig, took pride in his dishonorable discharge, and violent as he undoubtedly was it wouldn’t be long before he was back in jail. He mused a while about what it would take to set Dalton off. Just shorting him would do it but the crafty Yisraeli wanted to make sure Dalton would do something drastic.
He decided to send only five hundred dollars thinking that would unbalance Dalton but give him enough money to tie one on. Yehouda’s hopes were more than justified. Angrily looking at the five hundred dollar check he went into a towering rage. He was spoiling for a fight.
That night he and a couple friends drove out to the Hillbilly Heaven roadhouse near Mt. Pleasant. If you’re looking for a fight there is no better recommendation than a hillbillybar. This particular bar was frequented by a bunch of guys for whom no outing was complete without a fight.
Dalton got his fight. His rage at Yisraeli was so great that he actually killed his man. Stomped him to death. Thus after only a few days home Dalton was downtown in the can awaiting trial for manslaughter. He got five years, which was a lot for those times when first degree murderers might only serve three. He would have been out in the early sixties but he was a very troublesome inmate. His release was delayed until 1969. At that time he was once again a free and roving man.
Yehouda when he heard the news felt entirely justified in withholding the other two thousand. Dewey knew nothing of it but when Dalton didn’t show up at Grandma’s house the next morning his apprehensions for the future were allayed.
Yehouda in his excitement passed the word to Kanary that Trueman was dead. Kanary spread the word aboard the Teufelsdreck.
Days Of Future Passed
How many of us really know what’s going on? The Field is vast, we are small. Historical motifs affect us. Economic motifs affect us. Political motifs affect us. While Dewey slept now soundly, now fitfully the drama of Duelin’ Dalton Daggers swirled around his existence.
Trueman’s mother had not informed him she would not be home. She had done him a disservice and a psychological injury but had she been in town what might have been the result? She and her husband Tuistad would have been at work. Louis would have been at school. If, groggy from being roused from his weary sleep Dewey had been confronted by the madman Duelin’ Dalton Dagger at his door what might have been the result?
It is one of those questions that can never be answered. Suffice it to say the result would not have been pleasant for Dewey. Thus by a peculiar twist of fate Dewey avoided the necessity of a Response to what would have been a very difficult Challenge.