Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

The Past behind me- a new day. Paul DeGaston

The two sisters called me yesterday morning. A dealer in Escondido had recommended that I appraise a collection of prints that they had stored in their garage since time immemorial. Their parents had received them somehow, but the how, why, who and wherefore's had all slid into faded history.

They brought them up yesterday, in an old wood and copper box. There were fourteen of them, mostly drypoint, but some very competent aquatints as well. I suggested that they go get a coffee or go next door to Leslie's while I did some preliminary investigation work.

I have sold prints and works on paper, along with paintings, since the late 1970's. My first company was called El Flechador Del Sol and concentrated on works on paper. I am in no way one of the high echelon print dealers but I have been fortunate enough to have some very fine examples of printmaking pass though my hands over the years; Baumann's and Kloss's, Capps, Diebenkorn, Martin Lewis, Whistler, Rembrandt, Durer and many others. I was instrumentally involved in creating a few major print exhibitions and I would like to believe that I can recognize a certain level of quality when I see it. Even have tried my hand at aquatints myself. Enough of my bona fides.

Yoshida - Paul De Gaston

That is why I found it curious that I could find nothing about this particular artist, Paul De Gaston. Anywhere. I checked Artprice and AskArt. Nothing. Googled him, found one aquatint of the Nile that sold at some obscure auction for peanuts and a WWAR reference to an Ainu print pulled by the artist at the turn of the century.

It is highly unusual to find an artist this competent with such a paucity of historical record.

I called my friend Steve in Phoenix, a very well respected and versed print dealer and he didn't have a clue. Couldn't get a hold of Roger Genser. I started focussing on the name and not the artist and wasn't prepared for what I found next.

The first reference I found for a Paul De Gaston was for an abortionist connected with the infamous Black Dahlia murder case.


(17) Dr. Paul De Gaston:
DeCaston was identified as an abortionist who practiced under the alias, Dr. C. J. Morris in downtown Los Angeles. He was tried for murder in 1934 and served time for performing abortions. His name and address were found in Elizabeth Short's address book after her murder.


The next thing I found was a website written by DeGaston's son that threw a bit of light on his father:

Paul Robert De Gaston - Born June 28, 1902, Pakhoi (now Beihai), Kwangsi-Chuang (now Guangxi), China
Died December 12, 1956, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles County, California



    My father was a very sensitive, intelligent, musical, and handsome man. He was strong, and as a young man engaged in boxing. He was an artist, musician (even played violin with the Glendale Symphony Orchestra), part-time movie actor, and a pioneer in performing abortions. He loved and knew classical music and could play the violin very well, the flute well, and the piano OK. Unfortunately he used his abilities often in a selfish way to the hurt of others, and very much of himself too. At times he was quite generous. He did want to make his family in his third marriage with my mother work. That was a difficult task as mother was very headstrong though she loved him, and no man was good enough after my Dad. But my Dad could not keep an even temper, losing his temper at times, and going too far in corporeal punishment. This finally resulted in my parents divorcing.


    My Father was interred duing World War II, having been "denounced", but never proven [not even a trial], as having pro-German sympathies, in various concentration camps including North Dakota, Oklahoma, Texas, and finally Terminal Island in Los Angeles Harbor. While my father was at Terminal Island mother took me and sometimes Cami to visit him. We used to ride the Red Car from the elevated terminal in downtown Los Angeles to San Pedro, and then take a ferry to Terminal Island. The Red Car was a real electric train, and went at speeds in excess of 60 miles per hour down the right-of-way through south LA, Compton, and Watts which paralled and was next to Alameda Boulevard. While in concentration camp, my father met and became friends with a famous Austrian artist, Hovanetz. Hovanetz taught my father to paint. Some time later after the war, Hovanetz returned to Vienna because he was offered a commission to paint the dome (as I recall) of some important and/or historic building.


...It did seem improbable that Father was only 4 years and 11 months older than my mother. He looked a lot older. He "lied" that he had served in the World War I serving in France, and that war was from 1914-18 (for America it was 1917-18). My father had to have been at least 18, and probably more...as we might gather from the picture included below showing him boxing while still in China (but maybe that pic was post-China?  My mother was 49 at the time of Father's death. She didn't have a grey hair. My grandmother, Anna de Gaston, at 82 or so years of age still had partly almost black hair mixed with her grey hair. I don't believe that there was any premature greying in the de Gaston line, but my father lying in his coffin (whom I had not seen for years) had about 50 per cent grey hairs in the top of his scalp, and mustach, and the sideburns were predominantly grey.  I was rather taken aback. Father had always played games as exactly how old he was because he looked young for the age that he claimed, and liked to fool people. 

Old China, Chinese Mother 2/10 Paul DeGaston

The Supplicant - Sun worshipper - Paul DeGaston

Mending Nets, Old China - Paul De Gaston

Now, I am thinking this is probably the same guy. An artist, and born in China. Several of the prints have chinese themes. But where did he get his training in printmaking? Was he a student of the great Hiroshi Yoshida? I find reference to a 1934 National Geographic article on China written by a Paul DeGaston.

"My Father standing in his medical office in Seattle, Washington, about 1940.  My Dad was an entrepreneur, and quite intelligent as he did this without formal medical training, and specialized in abortions."

His son's website had this interesting picture of father in the abortion clinic. A doctor with no medical training? Very strange to say the least. 

I continued digging and found this government document from World War II authorizing the apprehension of DeGaston or whoever he really was. A nazi spy perhaps, with a string of alias's. Was he Teodore Herman Bach, the german alien sympathizer or agent from Washington? Or just an innocent artist with a string of pseudonyms wrongly fingered by the government? 

This has to be the strangest appraisal I have ever undertaken and has all the makings of a great George Smiley whodunit. I am going to do a little more searching and see what turns up. I have taken the prints on consignment. If you have any more information on De Gaston I would love to hear from you. I include pictures of the rest of the prints for your inspection. Paul Robert DeGaston, or whoever he actually was, was an enigma, but through all the intrigue and deception he was nonetheless a very talented printmaker whose artistic footprint seems to have largely vanished from this earth.

Great Dane 6/25 - Paul DeGaston

London Fog - Paul DeGaston

At Bay - Paul De Gaston

Aquatint sailboat - Paul DeGaston

Untitled - Paul DeGaston

Untitled - Paul DeGaston

Anti- aircraft, aquatint 1 of 5 - Paul DeGaston 

Cowboy Race - 5 of 25 - Paul De Gaston

From Douglas Frazer Fine Art- Bellevue, WA

My friend Doug Frazer at frazerfineart.com tells me that he has photographs of Huc M. Luquiens shot and signed by De Gaston and once owned a painting by the artist as well. 

***

10:44 p.m. 2/25/12

I got on Ancestry.com tonight and found a plethora of information on DeGaston and his several wives, Violet, Ruby, Leona. Birth dates always different but definitely maybe, probably not the same man. (See, The continuing story of Paul De Gaston and discover Paul Percy Degaston)  If you can figure the darn thing out, please let me know. Death cert shows him born in 1877, although he most often claimed 1891. His mother's maiden name was Bach so the FBI alias strikes a chord.  Worked for a period of time in San Francisco as a photographer. Lots of trips to Hawaii. I have reviewed the manifests. For some reason he engaged in a lot of misdirection, sometimes claiming to have been born in New Jersey and giving out the wrong middle name on occasion. Paul DeGaston was an artist, an abortionist, a photographer, a possible axis sympathizer and definitely a very complicated man.

I will keep looking.

Read Part II.

Brenda Holloway - You've Made Me So Very Happy

Last of the Hollywood swingers

I was a third rate stringer and it was one of the last assignments I managed to pull before the sorry rag bit the dust. It was back in 91 or 92 when they sent me out and I swear I will never forget the interview for the rest of my days. He was one of my first big time stories. All the players are unfortunately gone now so I guess I am free to spill.

It was a long drive out to Desert Hot Springs. The place was not quite as bad back then as it is now but it was definitely showing its wear. I sat in a flimsy deck chair on the hot concrete while the older black attendant in the starched whites wheeled the aging chimp down to his favorite table at poolside, her fat triceps bulging generously over her sleeves.

He held her right hand gently in his and rested the left around her neck while they mutually pivoted him into his chair behind the wrought iron table. A dance move worthy of Charisse and Astaire, graceful and obviously well practiced.

It took a few seconds before he even would look at me, his infirm condition possibly being a source of shame, even at this late stage.

“Mind if I smoke?” Cheeta asked me, not bothering to wait for a response. He took a long drag off the kool menthol and blew a cascade of minty smoke across the veranda, finally looking straight into my eyes. “So, what can I do for you?”

I stammered a bit. It is hard to keep a straight face and your mind clear when faced with a smoking chimpanzee who probably speaks better english than you do. But I was a professional, I had a rent check that needed to get paid and I frankly didn’t have time for bemusement.

“The standard stuff, Cheeta, your childhood, training, working with Weissmuller and O’Sullivan.” My brain had locked up a bit but how often does one get introduced to a talking chimp, let alone a celebrity like Cheeta?

The chimp cantilevered his arms out in a long stretch, momentarily showing a blue depends diaper beneath his robe. He quickly pulled the frayed terry robe closer together across his sternum, the gray hairs on his chest looking long and sparse.

“ First of all sonny, just how goddamn old do you think I am?” he said with a touch of scorn. "My childhood, a typical childhood. Mother, father. Nothing out of the ordinary. What did they call me? Precocious, that was it. Quite the novelty," he coughed.

“Weissmuller, Crabbe, they were gone long before my time. Never met them, hear that Johnny Sheffield boy was a real prick. Used to tease the talent. I worked with Ron Ely, the sixties Tarzan. Bloom was off the whole franchise by then. Agent told me to ask for residuals instead of an episode fee. Real mistake on my part, but who knew? Nothing went anywhere. Ely was a lunk who couldn’t yodel worth a crap and most of the kids opted for Daktari. Clarence the Crosseyed lion. Knew him well. Drank like a fish.”

The chimp pulled out a pencil and started working on an unfinished crossword on the table, seemingly forgetting me for a moment. He had donned his gray bifocals and peered at me over the top, “Let’s see five letters, fourth letter l, genus of owls.”

I shook my head wordlessly, offering no help, biology and taxonomy never being much of my game. “Ulula, that works, doesn’t it? You know how hard it is to work a pencil without an opposable thumb?” “The chimp that you want is Mr. Jiggs, kid. He worked on the original Tarzan the Ape Man, all the way through the New York Adventure. I knew him. A real gentleman. But now he’s gone, like the rest of them. Long gone.”

“Course Jiggs and Jiggs Jr. had their stand ins as well for the rough work. Harry and Zippy and C.J.. Wouldn’t do the tough stunts. Got all showbiz. Can’t blame them, plus they having the gout and all. It was different in the studio system, we had real stars back then and the networks and studios knew how to take care of the talent properly.”

Cheeta looked me dead in the eye and cut the longest fart you ever heard, without even breaking a smile. The kind that peels paint off the wall. Nothing quite so foul as a monkey fart, better take my word for it. He jumps right on ahead like nothing has ever happened.

“ Got my S.A.G. card in ‘66, agent thought the sky was the limit. But we had all the other crap back then, Vietnam, women’s lib, Watt’s riots, suddenly nobody gave a crap about a talking primate. Not to bitch too much, I worked now and then, a few guest shots on Lancelot Link, did a commercial for Benson and Hedges, had a pilot in production, never went anywhere. Victim of timing.”

“Now look at me. All the old guard is long gone. I can hardly scrape together enough pulses that register nowadays to get a decent game of pinochle. Too much whiskey, too much cholesterol, the old ape pack is just about history. Nobody left,” he said quietly and wistfully.

I felt a bit uncomfortable, I was just a young cub trying to get a story published on deadline and didn't really know what I could say. I thanked Cheeta for his time, told him that I would contact him if I needed any more details to help flesh out the article. He mustered up that old Hollywood fake smile for the camera one last time and then I was off by myself on that long ride back to the city of angels.

I read somewhere that he had passed last month and admit I felt a pang of sadness and regret. I just don’t think we will see his kind again.  The last of the great Hollywood chimps.

© robert sommers 2012

early morning dreams

Antiques, Objects & Art L.A.

The Blue Heron Gallery will be exhibiting at the Antiques, Objects & Art L.A. show in Glendale next month. The show runs March 10-11, 2012. 10 to 6 Saturday, Sunday 10 to 4.

I almost never do shows in Los Angeles, being sometimes mildly allergic to the city and population but will give it a shot with all of the optimism I possess.

If you are in the neighborhood, I would love to see you. If you download and print this image you can get a few bucks off on the ticket.

I will be bringing some very nice paintings and prints to the show as well as some new objects. Looking forward to some great meals at La Cabanita as well.

Hope to see you there.

Red Bone - Come and Get Your Love

How I would roll...

Conservatives have been falling all over themselves lately accusing the Obama administration of conducting a war on religion. All I can say is that if he is, he ain't much of a commander. Make me a five star general and we will put the saintly in their freaking place. Here is how I think I will start my campaign:

1. Cut off all federal aid to any parochial schools at any level including college. This includes schools like Bob Jones University whose religious beliefs allow them to exclude minorities.

2. Revoke the tax exempt status of any church that endorses candidates or tacitly endorses any political party or that preaches politics from the pulpit.

3. Throw a bunch of priests and cardinals in jail. The ones that molest their charges and those that enable them or hide them from the authorities.

4. Start taxing religious groups that amass large real estate holdings.

5. Outlaw any non secular symbols or references to divinity on any public building, property or land including memorials, creches, ten commandments, coinage, invocations, etc.

6. Outlaw school vouchers.

7. Take the relatively recently added phrase "under god" out of the Pledge of Allegiance.

8. Force right to lifer's to financially care for unwanted or abused children whose mothers were intimidated into carrying them to term. This includes all children born with deformities or in cases of rape and incest.

9. Castrate or similarly dismember any priest, rabbi or minister who molests any person in their flock.

10. Purge our school systems of any faith based or pseudo faith based curriculum devoted to creationism, intelligent design, flat earth, young earth, terracentrecism, flood theology or any other similar mumbo jumbo or science fiction.

11. Pull the tax exempt status and cut all government help and subsidy to any church, mosque, synagogue or other religious organization that discriminates against gays or minorities in any way.

12. Send anyone caught engaging in the practice of glossolalia (speaking in tongues) to a mental hospital for a 24 hour psychiatric evaluation. Ditto anybody else who claims to speak to god.

13. Any government official, including president's, congressmen and judges who use scripture as a way to justify global warming, species decimation, rising sea levels, ozone depletion or air, water or any other pollution and extoll man's dominion of the planet shall immediately lose his or her job.

Not the total solution but definitely a start.

Where you want this killing done?

Ain't no sunshine

Sunday, sunday.

We had a great sunday with friends. R&D invited us out to go whale watching on their boat, which was docked near the Marriott at the Embarcadero. ´ showed up as well as Leigh and Nick and some family from back east. No whales this time but it is always a great experience to be out on the water. It was a pretty strong swell as we powered past Cabrillo Point, the explorer's first stop in Alta California.

R had picked up a huge passel of fresh vegetables from chino farms so in addition to the great fruit, cheeses and what have you, we feasted on strange mutant purple and yellow carrots and sweeter than sweet green beans, mushrooms and broccoli.

On our way back we passed a schooner sailing into the wind in all her glory.

Leslie and I cruised Horton Plaza for an hour, she bought a few new pairs of sued boots, then we headed back to meet the gang at Cucina Urbana for dinner. The artist Dan Welden and his business associate Fernanda showed up as well as D's brother, wife, son and daughter in law from Columbus. Connie and Dixon came by as well, our dinner hosts on Friday.

We had one of those amazing Kevin Bacon moments with unseen connections between parties popping up all over. The meal was fantastic, dinner for 14, huge rustic platters of short ribs pappardelle, caesar salad's, chopped, burrata with garlic, pizza, scampi, agnoletti. It was a truly memorable evening, service and food just outstanding. Desserts were over the top, fresh donuts in dipping sauce, cannoli, gelato, just bacchanalian. A big thank you to all concerned.

Hey Pocky Way

Mike's Diner

This is Mike. Mike runs Mike's Diner in Santa Barbara, located at the Earl Warren Showgrounds.

I have never met the guy before, admit to having enjoyed his cashew chicken salad during the show, was that a touch of mango salsa I tasted? Knew nothing about him.

Anyway I am looking at this big dude and I couldn't keep myself from belting out, "Pro baseball player, Meat?"

Without batting an eye he responded, "Pittsburgh, Instructional League. 3/4 delivery, four good pitches, nice two seamer, hot fastball."

Guy came up with Tony Pena and Bonds way back when. Never made it to the bigs. Didn't ask him why, none of my business. Maybe 6'5", could have just as easily been a defensive end. He told me a couple stories of life in the minors.

Turned out he was a Coloradan who went to Columbine High. Dude just reeked ballplayer from every pore. And for some reason I just knew. If you are in the area, stop by for a sandwich.

Gotye - Somebody That I Used To Know

78 billion youtube views and counting...

Old guard gets put out to pasture.

Father Coughlin

Pat Buchanan lost his television gig this week after a fair amount of outrage over his new book. Buchanan waxes in the tome for the good old days when the country was white, western european and prayed to the same deity.

Sean Hannity gave the dour, isolationist, racist, windbag a chance to track back and reframe the argument so that it wouldn't seem so much like he was just doing his best George Lincoln Rockwell impression but he was having none of it. The conversation went something like this (from Huffpo):

Hannity ... quizzed Buchanan about the chapter in his book called "The End of White America." Buchanan said that he was merely trying to push back against the idea that the end of the country's white majority was a good thing.
"Why can everybody else celebrate this and say it's wonderful, and I can't even write about it without being blacklisted?" he said. "...I don't know why they say this is going to be better when there's a smaller percentage of white folks."
Hannity asked if Buchanan really meant to warn against cultural, and not racial, shifts in the country. Buchanan rejected that idea.
"If you remove the ethnic core of the country...I think you imperil the unity of the country and the culture," he said. "...My point is, an ethnic core -- in other words the fact that we were a Western and European people predominantly and we had 10 percent African Americans -- this was one of the strengths of this country as well as the culture."

Hannity tries to give ol' Pat an out, a chance to bemoan the loss of white anglo saxon cultural identity in our country but Pat refused to take the bait. "No Sean, it's the coloreds and the you know who, the Voldemorts, the people who can not be named, the "Hollywood cultural elites", the hooknosed money lenders, christ killers, not to mention the fags, chinks, wops, spics and shvuggies, who have reproduced beyond the perfect 10% mix we needed for a proper national demographic cocktail. We need to blanche that infernal notion of a melting pot once and for all and call it a failed experiment. We just couldn't get the shade right. "It's like toasting marshmallows, you want them a bit golden but when they light up and get black nobody wants to eat them."

See ya Pat. Hasn't exactly been swell.

Dusty

Classy ESPN

Pick Me Up on Your Way Down

Friday Mixed Grill

Ever thought about marrying your dog? Or an urn? Or a stiff? (ick) According to the editor of Right Wing News, these things happen in other countries. Read John Hawkins' Five Reasons to oppose Gay Marriage at Townhall.

...furthermore, once that door is opened, where does it stop? How about brother and sister? Marrying the dead sound any better? How does man and dog strike you? Adults marrying children? How does marrying a tree or a clay urn hit you?
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Millard sent a few choice tidbits over.

Your pucker the wrong shade? Read about the new hot trend of asshole bleaching.

And the world's smallest whatever. Some great comments down the page...
"would look great glued to my shirt buttons..."
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From One eyed Shmuel to Lloyd Blankfein, Jill clues me in on the illustrious history of jewish pirates.

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The New Calvinism - Another Republican suggests that women close their legs if they desire birth control, this time its a woman.
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You think your job is tough? Thomas Johnson sends this over.
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Hudgins offers up this wondrous experiment in scale.

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Extraordinary popular delusions - Guacamole Gulch

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Don't text and walk.

The Blues Project

Va En Shalom?

Man of Peace - Leonard Baskin, 1952

Last month a Lebanese/Swedish man with links to Hezbollah was arrested in Bangkok after discovery of a warehouse containing 8800 lbs. of ammonium nitrate and other bomb making components. Iran denied any involvement in the affair.

An Israeli diplomat's wife was injured in a car bombing in New Delhi on Monday this week. Concurrently on the same day, a bomb plot was discovered and thwarted in Tbilisi in the Republic of Georgia. Both bombings involved crude sheet magnets. Monday happened to be the first anniversary of the death of noted Hezbollah terror plotter Imad Mugniyeh.

In Bangkok on Tuesday the Iranians ran into a bit of bad luck when the roof blew off their safe house, due to a blast from the munitions they were storing inside. Mohammed Karzai and Saeid Moradi left the house soon after the explosion. A small crowd gathered around them in the densely populated Sukhumvit Road district of the Thai capitol. They hailed a taxi but the driver wouldn't let them get in the cab so they threw a grenade at him.

Moradi got scared and pulled out another grenade to throw at police when they showed up. It hit something, perhaps a signpost and was deflected back at him, blowing off one of his legs entirely. A third suspect, Iranian national Masoud Sedaghatzadeh, managed to catch a plane to Malaysia on his way back to Teheran.  He was intercepted in Kuala Lumpur. Thai investigators say that a fourth Iranian, Leila Rohani, rented the house for the trio but managed to get back to Iran. Thai police say that two homemade "sticky" bombs found at the blast site Tuesday matched the devices planted on Israeli diplomatic cars in India and Georgia.

Iran of course, denies involvement with any of the attacks, blaming the usual suspect Israel for the perfidious misdirection play. Teheran accused Israel of attacking its own embassies and diplomats as part of a "psychological war" against Iran. Typical Zionist plot, right down to the Iranian passports.

I couldn't sleep last night and did quite a bit of reading regarding the incidents and it amazes me how many people agree with the Iranians. Big Mossad operation, just like the twin towers. Or the Israeli's had it coming, what did they expect after killing five of Iran's top nuclear physicists?

Iran of course has been crowing this week about its ability to hit soft targets of the Zionist/American alliance around the world. Lets hope that any other similar acts are conducted in an equally sloppy fashion.

*

Several things bother me about this new escalation of violence. In Azerbaijan, the targets last month were not Israeli but a jewish school in Baku with 400 students. Three Iranians were arrested in the plot to murder jewish students, a rabbi and teachers at the Or Avner School and Israeli Ambassador to Baku, Michael Lotem. The suspects were identified as Rasim Aliyev and Ali Huseynov. According to reports, they received instructions from Balagardash Dadashov, who was in contact with Iranian intelligence and received a sniper rifle, pistols and explosive devices to attack Chabad emissaries operating in Baku.

Iran has of course long been linked to the synagogue bombing in Argentina and other mayhem against jewish targets in South America, with its new BFF Hugo Chavez. A red line has been crossed. It is no longer a fight against the zionist oppressor but a full fledged religious war against jews everywhere.

*

Of course, the left is silent about the bombings. Openly hostile to Israel, they are quick to point out that they are not anti-semitic, merely anti zionist. Anything to thwart the neocon war machine intent on invading the peaceful Iranian regime. The same regime that has promised to annihilate Israel, and now in the final stages of its "peaceful" nuclear enrichment program.

I was reading Joshua Holland's rather puerile piece on AlterNet last night, Dear Israel Lobby, we give up, please give us an acceptable way of insulting you. When I am in the mood to read some really fine leftist Israel Bashing, AlterNet is always my go to source. The Blame Israel first crowd. Such objectivity? Because when omniscient young jews take a few wacks at the Israeli piñata, you know that you can trust them. Here are a couple lines from the article:

The problem stems from the objective fact that there are a group of Americans – disproportionately represented among right-wing Christian evangelicals and older generations of Jewish-Americans – who ally themselves with the Israeli government. They do so regardless of its ideological bent at the moment and deny that the Palestinians have legitimate grievances (sometimes going so far as to deny their existence). They wish away the cruelty of the occupation, pretend that there are only rejectionists on the Palestinian side and Israel only wants peace, claim Israel has never violated international law or trampled on human rights, insist that Israeli Arabs don't face hostility and discrimination and go around calling everyone who disagrees anti-Semites and terror supporters. 

Now I applaud young Mr. Holland, first time that I have seen the agist argument. The problem isn't just with the damn right wing christians, it's those "old" jews as well. Bravo. I wouldn't dare suggest that you read the whole article, the typical anti Israel, self loathing sheit that AlterNet is so famous for. Permit me one or two comments. As a graying jew, I think that I might have a bit more historical perspective about the old tribe than these oh so brilliant young yids whose links to eretz yisrael is merely conceptual at best and whose judaism never strayed much from the whitefish platter at their Bar Mitzvah.

Don't even consider the state of relations between the arab and islamic factions themselves, Shia, sunni, kurd, wahab, all at each others throats in a bloody internecine conflict that threatens the Syrian masses today but whose torch has seared practically every country. No, focus on the jews, the people that they thought they were rid of 1500 years ago, who had the nerve to try to reclaim a piece of their ancestral homeland and birthplace. When there was literally no where else to go.

The Zion so reviled by the left and the muslims was not born in a vacuum. My paternal grandmother Pesa Szkarlat was one of two sisters that escaped the ovens from a family of nine. Practically all of our family shtetl perished at Auschwitz. My grandfather Israel Sommer had to actually kill a russian officer to escape dire persecution in World War I, finally making it to Antwerp and then the young Palestine.

My mother's family came from Yedinitz, in Moldava. Yedinitz is near Kishinev, the site of two of the worst pogroms ever, events that claimed thousands of jewish lives. My grandfather was finally allowed to leave in the early 1920's but only after writing a letter promising never to return to Romania. Jews were of course only allowed to live in a very narrow strip called the Pale. It was also forbidden for a jew to set foot in Moscow. And Europe was embarking on what was to be a final solution.

If you read LaPierre and Collins' magnificent book "O' Jerusalem" you get a great idea of the cost of the War of Independence on both sides of the conflict. And you will see that many survivors of the nazis ended up dying on the shores of their ancestral homeland. Because there was simply no where else to go. Not everyone was lucky enough to end up in Shaker Heights or Boyle Heights. There were quotas. Those lovable french sent 125,00 back to the Nazis on the trains.

I was lucky enough to talk with my grandparents, at least on my father's side. I want to honor their memory. I don't agree with Netanyahu's settlement policy. I support an equitable solution for all. But I am not foolish enough to disbelieve those that have vowed to destroy the land where my father was born. Because Israel won't get a second chance at surviving. They have to take their enemies at their word. A red line is being drawn, seemingly all over the world. Jews are now being targeted everywhere they live. Where is the righteous indignation now? And to my leftist friends I say, you can be on one side or the other, but unfortunately not on both. I know that I am in a distinct minority, especially amongst "progressives." People are sick of Israel and most will not shed a tear if it gets blown away. The jews are pretty much on their own these days.

I thank Israel's friends, especially the christians who have steadfastly stood by them and also admit to have nothing but revulsion for its own children who have forsaken her and pity for the forebears who gave birth to their dishonor.

In the City of Slaughter (Kishinev)

...the heirs

Of Hasmoneans lay, with trembling knees,

Concealed and cowering—the sons of the Maccabees!

The seed of saints, the scions of the lions!

Who, crammed by scores in all the sanctuaries of their shame,

So sanctified My name!

It was the flight of mice they fled,

The scurrying of roaches was their flight;

They died like dogs, and they were dead!

Chaim Bialik

Winter Break

I just want to thank all of you faithful readers for checking in. The reality is that I am mentally tired and have lost my ability and desire to write. I am sure that the malady is only temporary. Thanks for bearing with me.

Walk On By - Dionne Warwick

2.15.12

Leslie and I are getting our new dog next week. We are looking for a used futon for the young great pyrenees male. Anybody have one they are not using and would like to sell? He is a very big boy.

Willin'

Red corvette

I admit to a bit of scrapping when I was younger but hey I'm on the downhill side of fifty these days and my brawling days are long since over. So there I am this afternoon walking across the street after lunch when the red corvette convertible, license plate boy or something like that roars up to make a left. I am going at a fairly good clip and the young coquesuquer yells at me to walk faster and get out of the crosswalk.

I am floored and told him where to stick it. He mouths off again and I tell him to pull over, which he does. He gets out of the car and starts walking towards me, telling me that pedestrians need to have more consideration for drivers. Now it has not been a great week anyway and I am frankly about to lose it. I put my book down on the electric transformer and say "let's go." I was at a point that I was willing to absorb a little damage but he was absolutely about to get an asskicking. I don't like rich, entitled punks much anyway. Especially those that neither respect pedestrians or right of way.

My plan is to first dribble his head on the pavement like Jeremy Lin and then to put a few nice alterations in his fancy car with my foot if I have the time. He gets my vibe really quickly and runs back to his car like a little girl, telling me over his shoulder that I win this time and we will have a go some other time. I look forward to it.

Make It with You

Happy Valentine's Day.

End of the line

Tired, tattered, frayed. I think that after three out of the last four weeks on the road doing shows, I can safely roll out all the metaphors. Rode hard, put away wet. Fighting the bronchial thing since new year's, almost done with the antibiotics, the body hurts in so many places it would be easier figuring out what doesn't hurt. Shot didn't seem to help the heel very much, I am a walking disaster.

I drove back from San Francisco yesterday and it was a crapshoot to see if I could get home. The car is in even sadder shape than its owner. Broken motor mount, broken manifold stud and resultant exhaust leak, blown a.c. motor and a few days ago it developed a pretty horrific grinding sound. Having a van loaded with some pretty valuable material, I tried to nurse it home. I thought that maybe I was biting into my brake rotors pretty good. It had been hard getting down the grapevine on the way up, so I took 101 on the way down.

Around Corona things got white knuckle horrific. I called a dude I know with a warehouse and he offered to let me crash inside but I tried to see if I could make it. Cars were flashing their brights at me, think I was throwing sparks. I didn't know if the engine had dropped. Whole thing was dicy but I didn't want to hole up in Corona and I was praying to the god of your choice to get me home where a cat needed feeding, on account of a wife doing her own show in Las Vegas. And I finally did. People only see the glamour...

*

The show was marked by a few horrible events. There were three major thefts on the floor. A good friend of mine had over 70k in victorian gold chains stolen from his locked case, after hours when security was supposed to be patrolling the room. Another dealer lost a purse full of money from a locked case also after hours. The second night another jewelry dealer lost over 75k in material.

What made it doubly disappointing was that the promotor never addressed the issue with her dealers. No memo, no dealer meeting, many of the dealers were totally unaware of the circumstances or the theft. Rumors spread quickly and many people are casting their suspicions at the security guards themselves. I do not know. I do know that if they can not provide us with a safe haven for our merchandise, many exhibitors, some of them longtime dealers, will drop the show. There were no cops on the floor this show, a usual occurrence, unless they were writing up police reports. The promotor actually told my friend Dan, who lost the 70k, not to tell anybody, something I don't understand at all. I think that they had a legal and ethical obligation to tell people that their merchandise was in jeopardy. We got nothing. And the victims of the thefts got neither a promised meeting or any semblance of an apology from management.

Unfortunately the current promoter tends to turtle when faced with adversity and take an extremely defensive position. I don't know how things will shake out, but something has to be fixed if they want to continue to have dealers. Period.

*

One of the cool things about my business are the specialist dealers. Confectionary molds, beer steins, political buttons, bakelite, people spend a lifetime collecting their thing.

 One lady was happy to leave the show with her new pet skunk, derriere pointed due north.

Peter Sprague

I was sitting around Kerry's house the other night, listening to his amazing sound system. Herbie Hancock's Chameleon segued into Miles soulful blowing on Night in Tunisia. Kerry asked me if I could play like any jazz guitarist who I would pick. I considered Wes and Joe Pass, McLaughlin.

But having thought about it for a few days I think that I can honestly say that I would give my left nut to play with the brilliance of Peter Sprague. Peter is a humble giant of the fretboard. This is a clip of him playing his composition Mundaka at the Athaneum with his String Consort which includes the renowned Bob Magnusson and Duncan Moore. I saw him play with a different cellist but Lars Hoefs plays so beautifully. The rest of the wonderful band is Bridget Dolkas - violin, Jeanne Skrocki — violin and Pam Jacobson — viola.

Peter and I both play Andy Powers guitars but that is where the discussion stops. An incredible talent and composer. Catch him when you can!

Notes from the front.

It has been a good week so far up north. Great weather, a few nice meals. Not a lot of business as yet but I made some interesting buys.

I bought this rug yesterday, a hundred plus year old lavar kerman with birds and a tree of life motif. About 4 x 8, very fine weaving, looks spectacular. I rarely buy persians but this one is so darn good!

Stayed with Melissa the first night, she and Gary made steaks. I am not drinking or indulging so I was probably a rather boring guest. Stayed up and watched Shameless, completely over the top.

I saw BigD yesterday who is just starting to feel better after the latest chemo. One more in two weeks and he is hopefully out of the woods. Hung out in the sun and soaked up the rays.

Went out with KerryB to Iziyuma in Japantown. This restaurant is one of the only places I have ever found Okanamiyaki in the whole country.

Okanamiyaki is a japanese style of pancake, filled with meat or seafood. I had a mixed seafood pancake filled with shrimp and other delicacies from the sea. There are two styles of okanamiyaki, Osaka and Hiroshima. The japanese girls at the next table clued us in to some of the more esoteric fare on the menu. This restaurant is located in the Japan Center next to the place that sells crepes. Recommended.

Last night I visited a Syrian restaurant in Burlingame and had char broiled cornish game hen in a bed of hummus and yellow rice. It was very different. Last time I was there I had the lamb shanks. Great little spot on Broadway.

I have a very nice lady sharing my space at this show, Rachel Prater from Gallery 925. Rachel did me a big favor recently and I offered her a case to show off her wares, the most incredible collection of Georg Jensen and Puiforcat hollowware and jewelry. Really spiffs up my booth and it is a pleasure having her company.

Michael is back from Thailand, wife and daughter coming soon. We are going out to Creola tonight, my favorite Bay Area spot.

I bought a very exceptional early piece of tiffany glass. It is a huge, odd asymmetric form with an x series mark, x 2867. The x pieces ran until about 1896, finishing at x 3700, so this is really early.  About a foot tall, I never have seen anything like it. You can only see one angle but the other views are totally different and random. George Ohr meets Louis Comfort Tiffany. Quite deconstructive.

Two more days and maybe something will fire. Will write if I get work.

Big Mama Thornton

Fetal politics

The Grand Old Party talks a lot about smaller government and personal liberty. Pardon me for thinking that they are full of it. People are up in arms about catholic institutions being forced to provide insurance coverage that includes contraception. I have an idea. If the catholics at these institutions don't desire them, don't twist their arm, but why not make it their choice if they wish to order them or not? No one is going to force birth control on anybody. Why not trust people to make their own decisions, even the catholics? What is the church really afraid of? Sounds like they might have an in house problem.

*

In a similar vein Federal District Judge Sam Sparks was forced to uphold Texas law by the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals that will make it obligatory for doctors to describe sonograms to patients in the utmost gory detail before a woman is allowed to abort. The law, enacted in 2011, requires abortion providers to perform an ultrasound on pregnant women, show and describe the image to them, and play sounds of the fetal heartbeat. Though women can decline to view images or hear the heartbeat, they must listen to a description of the exam. Society demands that we scare the shit out of these women, make an example of them. Maybe we can put them in stocks or force them to wear a scarlet "A."

A coalition of medical providers sued state officials in June, arguing that the law made doctors a "mouthpiece" for the state's ideological message.

Sparks had previously ruled that the law violated physicians' free-speech rights and temporarily blocked the law, but a three-judge panel of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit overturned the temporary ban in January. The judge was adamantly against the law but says his hands are tied. The finger wagging moral prigs are going to give the baby killers a good talking to. Because we all know that women are so casual about this procedure, undertaking it with all the emotional gravitas of a teeth cleaning. They need the state to make their lives even more miserable at this fragile time of their lives.

The way the narrative goes, at least according to the pro-lifers, is that unwary women are being seduced by the abortion mills, merchants of death who would kill and harvest their fledgling embryos. The woman's own wishes never enter into the equation of course, neither does her own reckoning of her maternal, emotional or financial ability to raise a child. It is all the fault of the evil doctors and the culture of death. Because we all know that women are not capable of thinking for themselves.

People are obviously incapable of making these and other important life decisions on their own. By all means we should let the government come in and make them for us.

*

Mitt Romney has put his two cents in on the Komen/Planned Parenthood tussle. Mitt now wants to cut off all funding for Planned Parenthood. Popular wisdom is that candidates run to the extreme in the primary and towards the center in the general election. I think that Romney is making a big mistake taking sides on this one, and with his prior endorsement of personhood amendments, at least with the independents he will need if he is to beat Obama.

*

More notes from the culture war - From Huffpo:

"Kansas lawmakers have been given six days to consider one of the most sweeping state anti-abortion bills to be introduced.
A Kansas House committee is scheduled to take up a bill Wednesday that would exempt doctors from malpractice suits if they withheld medical information to prevent an abortion. The measure would also take away tax credits for abortion providers, remove tax deductions for the purchase of abortion-related insurance coverage and require women to hear the fetal heartbeat. The bill includes several provisions, which passed in other states and now face federal lawsuits. The bill would also require women be told about potential breast cancer risks from abortions, even though medical experts discount such a connection.
Among the most contested provisions of the bill is the section that would exempt a doctor from a medical malpractice suit if a woman claims the physician withheld information about potential birth defects to prevent her from having an abortion. In addition, a woman would not be able to sue if she suffers health damage from a pregnancy as a result of information withheld from her to prevent an abortion. A wrongful death suit could still be filed, however, if the mother died.
The bill includes provisions similar to those found in other state laws now facing federal lawsuits, including Texas' requirement that the mother hear the fetal heartbeat, and Oklahoma's mandate that mothers be told about a potential risk of breast cancer with an abortion. It also would replicate Arizona's provision prohibiting tax deductions for abortion-related groups.
The breast cancer warning requirement has been the subject of much debate, since members of the medical community have disproved a link between abortions and an increased risk of breast cancer."

Daily Plugs

"Does this hurt?" Bruce, our podiatrist, asked me in his somewhat clinical tone as he pushed his thumbs into my heel. I muffled a scream as I attempted to scrape myself off the ceiling. "Plantar fasciitis," he says. "Textbook."

Bruce Manchel is a mensch who has been treating Leslie's family's foot ailments for a couple decades. Great guy and great doctor. Coronado but worth the trip. He proceeded to chemically ice my foot and then administered the coup de grace, an overlarge needle filled with cortisone right into the inflamed area. Slipped me a new pair of inserts and we made our quick exit, might need another shot in a month, something I am not exactly looking forward to.

Your feet give you a lot and ask little in return. Take care of them.

Dr. Bruce Manchel
Coronado Foot Specialists
www.coronadofootdr.com
1121 10th Street
Coronado, CA
(619) 435-0151


*

We left Coronado and decided to grab a bite in San Diego, cruising up fifth towards Banker's Hill. We walked over to our standby, Cucina Urbana but it is apparently closed monday lunch. What to do? We looked across the street at fifth and Laurel and saw that french place, Hexagone. Looked alright, if a bit stiff.

Hexagone is in the same place that the ill fated Gemelli resided, Vince's restaurant after the Busalacchi brothers had their family squabble. I had a gold name plate at the old Busalacchi's, the staff were like family but it got a little uncomfortable when you had to pick sides.

Leslie and I walked into Hexagone, only a couple other tables were seated. Looked at the menu, french bistro and thought why not.

I am happy to tell you that our lunch was superb. Somebody in the kitchen knows how to cook. I started off with a caesar. It was huge and delicious, for seven bucks a steal. Split it with Leslie. Enjoyed the nice crusty bread, one of my pet bugaboos if not decent.

Leslie had a scrumptious duck confit salad with incredibly good goat cheese. The duck leg was just cooked to perfection.

I ordered lamb chops in rosemary. What a revelation! Cooked with yellow raisins, cinnamon and a touch of mustard, the five large chops were divine, could not have been better, on a bed of mashed potatoes, green beans and tender young brussel sprouts. I think I speak for both of us, we can't wait to return. Our server Garo, was excellent as well. Just a delightful meal at reasonable prices. Check out the menu for yourself.

Hexagone
495 Laurel Street, San Diego, CA 92101
Tel: 619.236.0467, Fax: 858.673.5471

*

I don't know what it is about hair stylists, you get a new one and they give you this great haircut and then after a period of time, the returns start to diminish and they sort of mail it in and you look like hell but you don't say anything and then you start looking around for somebody new. Maybe they get religion, maybe they lose interest, I don't know. When things get really bad, I go to Ralph's in Hillcrest. They have been my slightly more expensive "triage" haircut for the last twenty years. When things are really bad, go with the gay barber, fellas. You will leave looking the place looking like Rock Hudson, trust me.

Ralph's Hair Place
409 University Ave
(between 4th Ave & Brant St)
San Diego, CA 92103
Neighborhood: Hillcrest
(619) 291-2887

Pentangle

Who knows where the time goes?

Onward and upward

Richard I leaving England for the Crusades, 1189 - Glynn Warren Philpot

Off to battle once again, San Francisco - communications will be spotty...

All Fall Down

a lovely song written by Harlan Howard & Ron Peterson

Southern Strategy

I read a very interesting article in The Nation. How the GOP is resegregating the South by Ari Berman. It is rather long but you might find it enlightening.

Roebuck Staples - Glory Glory

Getaway

Franz Bischoff

Our pals invited us on a great outing and midday distraction the other day. We first drove up to the Irvine Museum to see the Franz Bischoff exhibition. The show is breathtaking in quality. Do yourself a favor and catch the extraordinary collection of the late master china and canvas painter. One of the finest representations of california impressionism I have ever witnessed.

After the show we cruised over to South Coast Plaza and saw how the other half were living. Hermes, Jimmy Choo, all the windows were great. Only saw a quarter of the mall this time but I had a gas.

Our friends had been telling us about this over the top sushi bar in Seal Beach, Koi. I'm like ya,ya,ya. Guess what, they were right, best I have ever had, most creative, most delicious and I have been nibbling on the raw fish since Miki-sans in the mid seventies. Superb!

Albatross

Love, Peace and Happiness

Canyon Life

For the third year in a row, the red tailed hawks are back in the nest, perched in the high sycamore that provides protection and gives them an expansive view of the Santa Margarita River below. I noticed them about a week ago and remembered to bring my 300mm telephoto lens this morning. Dad was helping bring twigs over today to help prepare a comfortable bed for his mate.

I have taken so many pictures of the hawks over the years that they now pay me little heed. The county came by yesterday after I called  and fixed a blowout in the high canyon road that could have sent an unwary driver on a long trip down to the river. It's not the fall as they say, it's the sudden stop on the bottom.

Today a dark fox ran in front of my van, only the third I have seen in over thirty years here.

The Jeff Healey Band - Angel

Breast Cancer Foundation bows to political pressure.

The Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, which promotes breast cancer awareness, has pulled the plug on Planned Parenthood. They had been major donors at Planned Parenthood, funding preventive screenings and education programs aimed at low-income and uninsured women. They contend that they are no longer allowed to fund any groups under investigation. Read this interesting article at the Daily Kos that shows the flip side of the issue, the many top donors to Komen that are themselves under investigation. Even more stealthily, Komen for the Cure has also quietly stopped funding embryonic stem cell research centers.

Planned Parenthood is of course under the gunsights of pro life republicans and are being investigated by house Rep. Cliff Stearns of Florida in what many consider a political witch hunt. Experts estimate that one in six women of childbearing age get their health care from Planned Parenthood and that poor and minority women will be most hurt by this decision.

Komen's founder was President George W. Bush's Ambassador to Hungary. Karen Handel manages the group's public policy arm and ran for governor of Georgia as a Republican in 2010. She had pledged to take away Planned Parenthood's state funding if elected. Handel had the backing of former Alaska governor Sarah Palin but lost the election. Handel joined Komen in 2011 as senior vice president of public policy.

John D. Raffaelli, a Komen board member and Washington lobbyist said that he feared a congressional investigation would hurt Komen with donors. “People don’t understand that a Congressional investigation doesn’t necessarily mean a problem of substance,” Mr. Raffaelli said. “When people read about it in places like Texarkana, Tex., where I’m from, it sounds really bad.” “You should as a general rule always pick vendors and grantees that will broaden your base of support and not narrow it,” Mr. Raffaelli said.

I would suggest that people start funding Planned Parenthood directly. I plan on making a donation tomorrow. Shame on Susan G. Komen!

Quick Hits

Governor Jerry Brown is starting to dissolve the State's redevelopment agencies. I say bravo! Redevelopment was a  little used contrivance first conceived after World War II but which really came into being after the passage of Prop. 13. A redevelopment district could abscond with tax revenue for its district for a thirty year period.

Redevelopment became a great way for cities to not share tax revenues with schools, counties and the State. The State was forced to step in to subsidize the loss of school revenue. Redevelopment allowed cities to hang the "blight" appellation and declare eminent domain on a lot of perfectly good real estate in order to achieve some pretty machiavellian and shortsighted schemes.

I worked on several multi million dollar redevelopment projects in the late 80's and early 90's as a consultant and in some of these districts, it was like working with the mafia. The agencies were accountable to no one and had far too much money at their fingertips. I saw some really shady stuff. The cities passed Prop. 22 to try to keep the State from recouping revenue and Brown did the smart thing. I think that he has been a damn good governor.

*

All right the jig is up, I get my marching orders from Saul Alinsky. Whoever the hell that is. You can't read an opinion these days without hearing about dogwhistles. How about a new metaphor already? Sheesh. But I had to wonder if I was hearing an ultrasonic sound over at Townhall the other day where Sandy Rios was pontificating in defense of poor, misunderstood Pat Buchanan: "Leftist Jewish organizations like ADL whose gold standard is “tolerance” are absolutely intolerant of Christ-followers or anyone they perceive don’t embrace the sacred cow of political correctness with regard to race. Buchanan has mentioned race and faith in a way they hate and he must be silenced." Those commie jews again, ladies and gentlemen. Now the anti defamation league is left wing?

*

Russia is once again standing up for a murderous regime in the process of committing genocide on its own people, Syria. It brings to mind the words of a teacher I had in New York, I forget his name at present. He said, if you learn nothing else in my class, learn that countries are as moral as economically feasible.

On this topic, there is a wonderful article on John Mearsheimer in the current edition of Atlantic. Mearsheimer is a University of Chicago professor and the author of The Israel Lobby and U.S.Foreign Policy amongst other books and has been branded an anti semite by many. That is neither here nor there. In this article, he discusses how fear is the dominant force in international relations and realism dictates that great powers will act in their own interests in order to abet that fear. He calls this doctrine "offensive realism." His book The Tragedy of Great Power Politics sets out his beliefs on the subject. "...with a forceful denial of perpetual peace in favor of perpetual struggle, with great powers primed for offense, because they can never be sure how much military capacity they will need in order to survive over the long run. Because every state is forever insecure, Mearsheimer counsels, the internal nature of a state is less important as a factor in its international behavior than we think."Mearsheimer is quite the apologist for manifest destiny and Kissinger style realpolitik, big international powers pushing their weight around. I don't agree with him on much but the article is fascinating.

*

I had to laugh when our president yesterday said that he respect's Iraq's sovereignty but reserves the right to fly drone missiles over it anyway.

*

Did you see the article on Chile last week. A domestic maid, Felicita Pinto, 57, caused quite the ruckus when she decided not to take the bus but to instead walk to work on the rich people's street. She was chased down by security guards and forced back to the gate. The community bylaws forbid servants to move at will.

"Can you imagine what it would be like here if all the maids were walking outside, all the workers walking in the street and their children on bicycles?" neighbor Ines Perez told a local television channel.
Shortly before Pinto's rebellion became public, a nanny who works nearby in the Brisas de Chicureo Golf Club wasn't allowed to enter a pool with the 3-year-old girl she watches because she wasn't wearing the traditional maid's apron that all domestic workers are required to wear on the property.
The administration of El Algarrobal II did not respond to requests from the AP for comment, but in an email to Pinto's employer, British shipping executive Bruce Taylor, it argued that maids, nannies, waiters, gardeners, construction workers and pool cleaners must ride the minibus to keep them from "committing robberies or providing information relevant to the privacy of other neighbors on their way to the house where they say they work."

I discussed the issue with my Chilean friend E last week. He told me that Chile is a very insular society. He mentioned that he had never seen a black person until he came to the United States and that the type of classism faced by Pinto is rampant in his home country.

*

My friend Pasadena Realtor Gary Mazzioti is now on the board of an organization called Hazel's Beans. Their mission is to promote women's health issues and health awareness.

*

I sold a painting in Santa Barbara to the lovely Kerry Allen. She has a neat website called Weekend Hippie.

"Weekend Hippie was born in Santa Barbara, California in 2008 and is all about living a full, responsible life on this planet--and having fun while doing it. First and foremost, loving life and living it with passion while making conscious choices, even small ones, that can make a big difference."   

Cool site. Check it out.

I Want To Make The World Turn Around

2.1.12

Paria © Robert Sommers

I don't know why I opened up the way I did about my childhood. It has brought up a few interesting comments and clearly made my uncle uncomfortable. I feel the need to finish up a little bit and try to kick the can down the street once and for all. One more dip into the dark reaches of the past and we won't come back to it for a long time, I promise. Or you might just want to skip this one.

*

Living with a twisted, alcoholic sadist is never a walk in the park but I can't say I didn't have a choice. I did. My brother and I could choose between let's say a hundred wacks of the hand and twenty with Don's weapon of choice, a two by four. Sometimes the whippings for our real or imagined transgression were applied prophylactically, for those crimes he was sure that we would commit when he had to take off, let's say, on a short trip. I would be the last to say that we were angels but you ever get beat on by a full grown man with a length of lumber? The results weren't always pretty. Splinters could be a real bitch.

Don applied his art with the cold precision of a Nazi camp doctor. He was good at his trade and the alcohol neither squelched his passion or his delivery. People talk about Stockholm syndrome and the mixed emotions captors have for their jailers and I understand completely. I remember confronting him after a savage beating when I was 11 or so and telling him that he really was sick, not because I hated him, on the contrary, I loved him, but because he was just not right. My uncle reminded me in a note about visiting us and every wall in the house had a hole in it that he had punched. I have a strong memory of him naked in the back yard, crying, having smashed a bottle of clear liquor on the concrete. He was a brilliant and complicated man who had a real knack for punishment. Liked to fund anti semitic political causes as well, later I discovered his contributions to the Liberty Lobby. So maybe he was just doing his part for the cause?

I don't think the scars of childhood victimization can ever be fully vanquished, as hard as we try. You can attempt to do so intellectually but your capacity for trust and your emotions are much more fragile when you are the powerless young recipient on the receiving end.

He took my brother and I alone to a new job in New York for a year in the late sixties. We holed up in a Howard Johnson's for a couple months. It was the darkest period of my life and I am not going to revisit it in detail now. My brother and I couldn't take it any more finally and tried to move back with our real father, a wealthy who had built the perfect life with my stepmother and my two stepsisters that did not include us in their plans. I got shipped off to boarding school, Buzz military school. After a year I went back to New York to live with my mother again. I was bigger now and finally confronted my stepfather, not when he was beating on me, this time stopping him from beating my mother. I stepped in between them and said, "Let's do it." He left and didn't come back for a long time.

I guess my mother liked the abuser types. There were a chain of boyfriends with a similar mien. Sal the biker punched me silly and left me completely bruised on a regular basis. Walter the loanshark held me down and poured a whiskey bottle down my throat. Lostritto was a good guy, only went after me once. Mom was ultimately married at least five different times. Manfred, Murray, I can't even remember all the names. Her world revolved around herself.

The worst was an ex dutch soldier turned leftist revolutionary named Tony V. He hated me and the feeling was mutual. Said a fourteen year old was old enough to be out on the streets on his own. We were living in the lower east side of Manhattan one night when it came down. It was a hot august night and I was on the couch when he decided to show me who was boss and finally throw me out. We were both near naked and fought savagely for close to an hour. No defense, no grappling, just the hardest haymakers we could deliver against each other in an almost protean struggle. Bones were broken, ribs and faces pummeled. My mother stood there with her arm around my little brother John and rooted for my opponent, who ignobly beaten by a kid, packed his bag and left, never to return. I never really forgave my mother for siding against her son in the altercation, which she conveniently denies. I couldn't make it out on the streets alone. I was completely emotionally devastated and never recall feeling more helpless.

She ended up following Don back out to California with me in tow. He was now shacked up with another woman and my mother had a nervous breakdown. Twice I pulled her out of the Pacific after a phenobarbital overdose which required a stomach pump. She wore dark sunglasses for a year and was just worthless and I had to assume a different role, the whole mother/son authority thing totally out the window since she was such a basket case. That genie can never get put back in the bottle, all the historical revisionism aside.

I hitchhiked down to see my father, a five hour thumb and was refused entrance to the house. You see I had a ponytail and they didn't want my filthy hippie tendencies to infect my young sisters. I headed back up north alone, up against the world and afraid. I remember walking down a certain road near San Diego, thinking about jumping into traffic so that I could get hit by a car and end it all. I still can't stifle a shudder when I traverse that road to this day, I came so close.

*

What does it all mean? I don't know. Do I blame the world, my mother, my father, my stepfather for a childhood fraught with peril, pain and uncertainty? Not really. I mostly am angered by the selfishness and self absorption that allowed her to be desensitized to the cruelty inflicted on us. I have noticed that many people from similar circumstances end up in relationships where love is delivered with the same barbaric edge that it was received in childhood and I have tried to avoid that. But I understand it.

I think it is a good bet that any issues that I may have had with authority stem from my childhood. And I certainly felt a lot of anger and envy for those people who were lucky and fortunate enough to live normal, entitled  lives. We never had that luxury in our family. Only Buzz had children, and he was adamant that they would not have to go through what we went through.

There's no dress rehearsal, we all get through this thing the best way we can. Some wounds never heal. I believe that my own healing will be a life's work in progress. Peace.