Wednesday, April 03, 2019

Once I Was A Good Boy-With Guitarist T-Bone Walker In Mind

Once I Was A Good Boy-With Guitarist T-Bone Walker In Mind 




By Lester Lannon 

No question Frank Jackman started out once as a good boy. Even his mother, Delores, brought up a pious Catholic and a “no tolerance” for evil type of mother admitted that up to the age of about eight he was a model child, went to school every day, got as good marks in school as he could with his limited abilities, went to church, that Roman Catholic Church thing his mother lived for, and was a star in Sunday school class. Then at about eight, maybe nine he fell in with the wrong crowd, fell in with some wrong gees as the saying went in the old neighborhood. Three of those young cronies spent many years in prison for armed something, one just finishing up a dime’s worth for armed robbery of a liquor store. Frank’s fate will be discussed further below after we figure out how he went from a good boy to bad.

A lot of people, you know, professional sociologists, criminologists and psychologists, blamed it on the neighborhood, “the projects,” where Frank and the others came of age. No question they had a point for the statistics bear out the facts of all kinds of strange pathologies among people at the bottom of the feeding chain, the hungry ones, “los olvidados” as one Spanish guy, one hip Spanish sociologist who came out of the place, called those “forgotten” hermanos (not hermanas so much) in the barrio when liberals were actually interested in trying to figure out how to make all boats rise. No question “from hunger” drove a lot of stuff back then when Frank was coming of age in the 1970s, now too although nobody is looking to closely at the subject (except to construct more jails or in the international case drop more bombs). And no question if Frank had been brought up in say leafy Forest Lawn or Glen Ellen he might not have run into those wrong gees, Ronnie, Ducky, Pistol, and Whiplash. Would maybe have found some Alfred, Harry and Bradley let us say and planned mayhem on the basketball court or something and not the local gas station which first got Frank into  trouble (unarmed robbery in the daytime). Actually that first troubled covered up in the courts so not counted was the ‘five-finger clip” at Kay’s Jewelry up in Riverdale Square. Like I said that didn’t count.        

But to Delores’ mind, to Paul his father’s too, Frank was strictly “bad seed,” although not put in such a graphic pseudo-sexual way. Bore the mark of Cain, the mark of the early banishment from Eden unto as the 1930s writer titled one of his novels –East of Eden. And they, their other three boys, Frank’s grandparents and the rest of the extended family bore down on him with those thoughts until he actually began to believe he was marked by the original sin we are all born with under high hell Catholic doctrine. Started almost the day that Frank (and Whiplash not known as Whiplash then, that came later at about age fourteen when he took a chain and nearly beat a guy to death for being on the “wrong” corner and needed to teach the guy a lesson about turf) got caught at Kay’s trying to “five-finger” a bunch of onyx with diamond chips rings to give to some girl Pistol was trying to get a blow job from. (That part, the head reason, never came out and would have freaked out the whole neighborhood, the adults anyway. To keep the record straight despite the lack of jewelry to entice the girl Pistol got his blow job anyway. She was that kind of guy-crazy girl.)       

So Frank (never Frankie, just Frank) went from bad to worse. Got sly as he grew older, got to thinking about what he didn’t have in the world, saw what his father had to grovel for to keep his family, to keep Frank, feed and clothed. The sight of the poor bedraggled man coming home always with his damn head down even when he had steady work and a reason to pull his head up for a moment made Frank swear to himself one night an oath to never be like his father, never grovel to anybody period if he could help it. As far as anybody ever knew Frank never did, but never did grow up to be half the man his father had been as he began to recognize long and too late afterward while serving an armed robbery rap for single-handedly robbing the First National Bank of Gloversville of a hundred thou (unfortunately he set off an alarm in the bank on his way out and the cops found him a few days later in New York. Lesson learned: always have another guy at your back).

But that was later, a half- dozen armed robberies and assaults later. The key one, the one that gave him that first record, on the way to a near permanent home in some state correctional institution including now at the “max” security Hammerhead joint. The first was the night he along with Fast Eddy Jones robbed at gunpoint the Cities Service gas station on Thorndike Street in Riverdale. Got away with it for a while, even got a free blow job from that girlfriend of Pistol’s she was so juiced up by what he had done, so yeah, she was that kind of girl but don’t tell Pistol that because he thinks she is still chastely waiting for him to finish up his dime at Shawshank up in Maine for robbing a grocery store when he was high as a kite on cousin cocaine. Pistol would kill her and every guy who even looked at her so please keep this to yourself.

Naturally kids of fourteen are going to brag about such an event if for no other reason than to prove their manhood out on the dangerous streets. At least naturally for Fast Eddy (Frank never bragged about nothing- his motto just do the thing-from robbery to boffing some frail who looked his way ever so slightly). So Frank and Fast Eddy took the fall, did the youth detention center, reform school, for a couple of years and that was that. (Fast Eddy would open his mouth once too often usually to some frail and wound up face down in the Merrimack River up in New Hampshire for his efforts.)

No need to list all the other felonies that Frank committed from that time to his thirty-fifth birthday because Frank was strictly an armed something guy and the only distinction between the crimes was the time served. Except that last one-that three strikes and you are out last one. The one where a bank sneeze, a bank cop at the Portland (Georgia) Trust Bank got hit between the eyes when he believed that the money he was guarding was his and got rum brave, but also got  very dead. Felony murder, murder one  and in death penalty crazy Georgia that meant the big step-off, the big kiss-off of the face of the earth. He is still waiting for the “hangman” as this written. Every once in a while his ancient mother is able to get down to Georgia to see her boy, her bad boy. And every time she says to Frank-“up to the age of about eight you were  a model child, went to school every day, got as good marks in school as you could with your limited abilities, went to church, that Roman Catholic Church thing that I lived for, and were a star in Sunday school class.” Frank just took that never-ending line in and sat in stony silence.      

As The 150th Anniversary Commemoration Of The American Civil War Passes–In Honor Of The Abraham Lincoln-Led Union Side-The First International's Salute To Abraham Lincoln On His Re-Election In 1864

As The 150th Anniversary Commemoration Of The American Civil War Passes–In Honor Of The Abraham Lincoln-Led Union Side-The First International's Salute To Abraham Lincoln On His Re-Election In 1864 


Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address 

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

I would not expect any average American citizen today to be familiar with the positions of the communist intellectuals and international working-class party organizers (First International) Karl Mark and Friedrich Engels on the events of the American Civil War. There is only so much one can expect of people to know off the top of their heads about what for several generations now has been ancient history.  I am, however, always amazed when I run into some younger leftists and socialists, or even older radicals who may have not read much Marx and Engels, and find that they are surprised, very surprised to see that Marx and Engels were avid partisans of the Abraham Lincoln-led Union side in the American Civil War. I, in the past, have placed a number of the Marx-Engels newspaper articles from the period in this space to show the avidity of their interest and partisanship in order to refresh some memories and enlighten others. As is my wont I like to supplement such efforts with little fictional sketches to illustrate points that I try to make and do so below with my take on a Union soldier from Boston, a rank and file soldier, Wilhelm Sorge.  


Since Marx and Engels have always been identified with a strong anti-capitalist bias for the unknowing it may seem counter-intuitive that the two men would have such a positive position on events that had as one of its outcomes an expanding unified American capitalist state. A unified capitalist state which ultimately led the vanguard political and military actions against the followers of Marx and Engels in the 20th century in such places as Russia, China, Cuba and Vietnam. The pair were however driven in their views on revolutionary politics by a theory of historical materialism which placed support of any particular actions in the context of whether they drove the class struggle toward human emancipation forward. So while the task of a unified capitalist state was supportable alone on historical grounds in the United States of the 1860s (as was their qualified support for German unification later in the decade) the key to their support was the overthrow of the more backward slave labor system in one part of the country (aided by those who thrived on the results of that system like the Cotton Whigs in the North) in order to allow the new then progressive capitalist system to thrive.       


In the age of advanced imperialist society today, of which the United States is currently the prime example, and villain, we find that we are, unlike Marx and Engels, almost always negative about capitalism’s role in world politics. And we are always harping on the need to overthrow the system in order to bring forth a new socialist reconstruction of society. Thus one could be excused for forgetting that at earlier points in history capitalism played a progressive role. A role that Marx, Engels, Lenin, Trotsky and other leading Marxists, if not applauded, then at least understood represented human progress. Of course, one does not expect everyone to be a historical materialist and therefore know that in the Marxist scheme of things both the struggle to bring America under a unitary state that would create a national capitalist market by virtue of a Union victory and the historically more important struggle to abolish slavery that turned out to be a necessary outcome of that Union struggle were progressive in the eyes of our forebears, and our eyes too.


Furthermore few know about the fact that the small number of Marxist supporters in the United States during that Civil period, and the greater German immigrant communities here that where spawned when radicals were force to flee Europe with the failure of the German revolutions of 1848 were mostly fervent supporters of the Union side in the conflict. Some of them called the “Red Republicans” and “Red 48ers” formed an early experienced military cadre in the then fledgling Union armies. Below is a short sketch drawn on the effect that these hardened foreign –born abolitionists had on some of the raw recruits who showed up in their regiments and brigades during those hard four years of fighting, the third year of which we are commemorating this month. 


Below is the First International's Address to Abraham Lincoln on the occasion of his re-election in 1864



The International Workingmen's Association 1864

Address of the International Working Men's Association to Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States of America 


Presented to U.S. Ambassador Charles Francis Adams January 28, 1865 [A]





Written: by Marx between November 22 & 29, 1864
First Published: The Bee-Hive Newspaper, No. 169, November 7, 1865;
Transcription/Markup: Zodiac/Brian Baggins;
Online Version: Marx & Engels Internet Archive (marxists.org) 2000.





Sir:



We congratulate the American people upon your re-election by a large majority. If resistance to the Slave Power was the reserved watchword of your first election, the triumphant war cry of your re-election is Death to Slavery.



From the commencement of the titanic American strife the workingmen of Europe felt instinctively that the star-spangled banner carried the destiny of their class. The contest for the territories which opened the dire epopee, was it not to decide whether the virgin soil of immense tracts should be wedded to the labor of the emigrant or prostituted by the tramp of the slave driver?



When an oligarchy of 300,000 slaveholders dared to inscribe, for the first time in the annals of the world, "slavery" on the banner of Armed Revolt, when on the very spots where hardly a century ago the idea of one great Democratic Republic had first sprung up, whence the first Declaration of the Rights of Man was issued, and the first impulse given to the European revolution of the eighteenth century; when on those very spots counterrevolution, with systematic thoroughness, gloried in rescinding "the ideas entertained at the time of the formation of the old constitution", and maintained slavery to be "a beneficent institution", indeed, the old solution of the great problem of "the relation of capital to labor", and cynically proclaimed property in man "the cornerstone of the new edifice" — then the working classes of Europe understood at once, even before the fanatic partisanship of the upper classes for the Confederate gentry had given its dismal warning, that the slaveholders' rebellion was to sound the tocsin for a general holy crusade of property against labor, and that for the men of labor, with their hopes for the future, even their past conquests were at stake in that tremendous conflict on the other side of the Atlantic. Everywhere they bore therefore patiently the hardships imposed upon them by the cotton crisis, opposed enthusiastically the proslavery intervention of their betters — and, from most parts of Europe, contributed their quota of blood to the good cause.



While the workingmen, the true political powers of the North, allowed slavery to defile their own republic, while before the Negro, mastered and sold without his concurrence, they boasted it the highest prerogative of the white-skinned laborer to sell himself and choose his own master, they were unable to attain the true freedom of labor, or to support their European brethren in their struggle for emancipation; but this barrier to progress has been swept off by the red sea of civil war.



The workingmen of Europe feel sure that, as the American War of Independence initiated a new era of ascendancy for the middle class, so the American Antislavery War will do for the working classes. They consider it an earnest of the epoch to come that it fell to the lot of Abraham Lincoln, the single-minded son of the working class, to lead his country through the matchless struggle for the rescue of an enchained race and the reconstruction of a social world. [B]


Signed on behalf of the International Workingmen's Association, the Central Council:

Longmaid, Worley, Whitlock, Fox, Blackmore, Hartwell, Pidgeon, Lucraft, Weston, Dell, Nieass, Shaw, Lake, Buckley, Osbourne, Howell, Carter, Wheeler, Stainsby, Morgan, Grossmith, Dick, Denoual, Jourdain, Morrissot, Leroux, Bordage, Bocquet, Talandier, Dupont, L.Wolff, Aldovrandi, Lama, Solustri, Nusperli, Eccarius, Wolff, Lessner, Pfander, Lochner, Kaub, Bolleter, Rybczinski, Hansen, Schantzenbach, Smales, Cornelius, Petersen, Otto, Bagnagatti, Setacci;

George Odger, President of the Council; P.V. Lubez, Corresponding Secretary for France; Karl Marx, Corresponding Secretary for Germany; G.P. Fontana, Corresponding Secretary for Italy; J.E. Holtorp, Corresponding Secretary for Poland; H.F. Jung, Corresponding Secretary for Switzerland; William R. Cremer, Honorary General Secretary.

18 Greek Street, Soho.




[A] From the minutes of the Central (General) Council of the International — November 19, 1864:

"Dr. Marx then brought up the report of the subcommittee, also a draft of the address which had been drawn up for presentation to the people of America congratulating them on their having re-elected Abraham Lincoln as President. The address is as follows and was unanimously agreed to."

[B] The minutes of the meeting continue:

"A long discussion then took place as to the mode of presenting the address and the propriety of having a M.P. with the deputation; this was strongly opposed by many members, who said workingmen should rely on themselves and not seek for extraneous aid.... It was then proposed... and carried unanimously. The secretary correspond with the United States Minister asking to appoint a time for receiving the deputation, such deputation to consist of the members of the Central Council."




Ambassador Adams Replies


Legation of the United States
London, 28th January, 1865

Sir:



I am directed to inform you that the address of the Central Council of your Association, which was duly transmitted through this Legation to the President of the United [States], has been received by him.



So far as the sentiments expressed by it are personal, they are accepted by him with a sincere and anxious desire that he may be able to prove himself not unworthy of the confidence which has been recently extended to him by his fellow citizens and by so many of the friends of humanity and progress throughout the world. 



The Government of the United States has a clear consciousness that its policy neither is nor could be reactionary, but at the same time it adheres to the course which it adopted at the beginning, of abstaining everywhere from propagandism and unlawful intervention. It strives to do equal and exact justice to all states and to all men and it relies upon the beneficial results of that effort for support at home and for respect and good will throughout the world.



Nations do not exist for themselves alone, but to promote the welfare and happiness of mankind by benevolent intercourse and example. It is in this relation that the United States regard their cause in the present conflict with slavery, maintaining insurgence as the cause of human nature, and they derive new encouragements to persevere from the testimony of the workingmen of Europe that the national attitude is favored with their enlightened approval and earnest sympathies.



I have the honor to be, sir, your obedient servant,


Charles Francis Adams

Follow The Money-Al Pacino and Anthony Hopkin’s “Misconduct” (2016)-A Film Review

Follow The Money-Al Pacino and Anthony Hopkin’s “Misconduct” (2016)-A Film Review   



DVD Review

By Associate Film Critic Alden Riley

[Upon the retirement from the day to day duties of film review in this space of Sam Lowell (he called it drudgery not duty) and his replacement by his old friend and competitor from the American Film Gazette Sandy Salmon there was an understanding that Sandy would cover the old time movies and his associate Alden Riley would cover the modern current efforts. This is Alden’s second such effort. Pete Markin] 

Misconduct, starring Al Pacino, Anthony Hopkins, Josh Duhamel, Alice Eve, Malin Ackerman, 2016      


Ever since the Watergate revelations of the 1970s which did one American President, Richard Nixon, in and fouled up the political atmosphere for years whenever dirty tricks and cutthroat tactics have been employed the mantra has been to “follow the money.” That is the case with the plotline of the film under review, Misconduct, an apt title on several levels.  Although the action is done by private parties rather than governmental that same following the bouncing ball applies to the plotline here as well. 
Arthur Denning, played by now ancient Anthony Hopkins who seems to be chasing Michael Caine for the title of appearing in the most films in a lifetime, a billionaire Big Pharma magnate is on the carpet for doctoring up drug test results which proved fatal on a serious number of trial patients. He certainly wanted to get out from under that heavy legal problem especially the criminal liability part. Moreover he had a younger mentally unstable employee mistress Emily, played by Malin Ackeman, who had her own agenda and wanted to get out from under. She had conjured up documentary proof of Denning’s extensive knowing wrong-doings and figured to cash in on that knowledge.       

Enter young “take no prisoners” big time New Orleans law firm lawyer Ben Cahill, played by Josh Duhamel, who just happened to be an old flame of Emily’s and who is the key to Emily getting out from under via a serious class action suit against Denning using her information as the lynchpin. Of course Emily used her obvious feminine wiles in her attempt to get the eager beaver young lawyer to do her bidding-to take on the case. Problem in that romance department was that Ben was married, very married, to Charlotte, a nurse played by Alice Eve and he passed on that part. He did however approach the senior partner, Abrams, played by Al Pacino, who after a lot of hemming and hawing decided to let Ben go ahead with the suit.            


Then all hell broke loose. First Emily staged her own kidnapping to grab some dough from Denning. As far as the lawsuit went Ben was a winner after Denning “settled” out of court for a big sum but also was protected from criminal liability as part of the agreement. Then before Ben could even celebrate his victory with Charlotte Emily wound up dead, very dead, from an apparent suicide. Ben found her body and just left it there in her apartment only to have it show up in his apartment and he had to go on the run. Go on the run to find out why he was being framed although he suspected that nefarious Denning was behind the deed. Figured the “deep pockets” guy was looking for further protection against whatever fall-out might come from Emily’s distraught mind. 

He would be wrong though. Wrong because the villain of the piece is none other than Abrams his boss who despite public appearances had been Denning’s lawyer for years. Yeah, follow the money, follow it closely. But there are other agendas, other kinds of misconduct, as well. See Charlotte was miffed at the idea that Emily and Ben might be rekindling that old flame and she went to Emily’s apartment to confront her. Had an argument and Emily fell. Charlotte coldly did not help her and staged the fake suicide scene. As for Ben and Charlotte they just moved on with their lives. And so it goes.            

Tuesday, April 02, 2019

From Out Of Nowhere I Get Waylaid By The Executor Of The Estate Of Dotty Malone The Famous Hollywood Screen-Writer For Not Paying Copyright Fees- With Famous California Detective Philip Marlowe In Mind-And Throw In Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler And Adele Saint John As Well


From Out Of Nowhere I Get Waylaid By The Executor Of The Estate Of Dotty Malone The Famous Hollywood Screen-Writer For Not Paying Copyright Fees- With Famous California Detective Philip Marlowe In Mind-And Throw In Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler And Adele Saint John As Well

By Seth Garth


I am mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore. That familiar old ditty has taken on a new meaning for me since I got a notice to appear in court, or have my representative in court in California to answer charges that I had violated the copyright laws when I did a combination obituary/ “tell all” story about the relationship between Dotty Malone, the famous Hollywood screen-writer who passed away a couple of years ago in 2017 at the age of 99 and the late equally as famous, then if not now, California private detective Philip Marlowe who passed on in the 1970s. It seems that back in the 1970s when I interviewed Ms. Malone after Phil passed away I “cribbed” some of the information she passed on to me to write a story about her take on the great Sternwood case which made Marlowe’s reputation, and made him a place in Ms. Malone’s bed after it was all over (make that marriage bed since to everybody surprise she was “doing the do” with Marlowe during the case while he was doing silky sheet duty with the young nubile Sternwood sisters marrying the older one, Vivian, after the case closed and while they were married). That bed like I said included a few years of marriage between the pair which was kept hush-hush so that Phil’s ex-wife that Vivian Sternwood, yes, General Sternwood’s Marlowe’s employer at the time of the case daughter would not throw daggers at Phil, Dotty, or both once she found out Phil had been sleeping with Dotty while on that case. Would break-up the settlement she laid on him to get a divorce to marry some Bel Air swell (and former New York underworld figure Carmine Dorio who when he came blood-drenched red turned “legit” with all the trimmings although knew he was the guy tied to eight million rackets) when Phil and she decide to call it quits. That information unknown to me after the interview was the basis for Dotty writing her own story about the Sternwood case and about the weird ways of high society Hollywood and environs doings.

But that unpublished although copyrighted story is not the real sticking point since that was too long ago to drag anybody into court for their come-uppance. What dragged me into court was that I had essentially retailed the same story when she passed on a couple of years ago. The cause of “my mad as hell and not going to take it anymore” though has more to do with some idea I have that using a little literary license did not really have all that much to do with her original story, my original story based on that series of 1970s interviews or my post-mortem story. So rather than go into that dreary foreboding court out West humbly to beg forgiveness of the lord high executor of Dotty’s estate I am going in to contest their contentions. With a lawyer provided by this publication. I will let you know what happens the million years down the road when this case gets an airing in the meantime though let me give you a rundown on what happened in that very famous case back in the late 1930s when the world was going to hell in a handbasket. If I mention Dotty Malone who was part of the story, tell information that she claims as her own, case so be it .            

As I prepared for that Malone interview back in the late 1970s at her big corner window office befitting a famous and successful screen-writer on the Metro studio lot in Hollywood I went back into the records out in California concerning that famous Sternwood case. (Dotty made me laugh when she mentioned that when she started at Universal she was hunkered down with four other young writers at three desks in a room with no windows. So, yes she had come a long way although that was not the cause of my laughter which was enflamed by the hard fact that then, as today, I shared office space with three other writers although we did have windows out in Oakland.) The Sternwood case, theone that made Philip Marlowe’s reputation as a hard-boiled detective in the tradition of those created by writers like Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett (mentioned in the title in case anybody did not know who they were), maybe later the late Lew Archer who had a few cases under his belt before he fell down and wind up doing keyhole-peeping, repo work and other undignified make work. Later still when female private investigators got a hearing the great Adele Saint John.

A case that would wind up as a film, a successful film made a few years after the events although the producers took many liberties with the facts. Like leaving the fate of the younger Sternwood sister, Carmen’s, chauffer lover unsolved event though one Pharoah Jack, Eddie Mars’ hit man was seen at the pier where that Sternwood car “skidded” off the tracks.  Like the fact that Vivian had had a clandestine affair with Eddie when his wife was away touring with the Artie Shaw Band so that it was no happenstance that Eddie helped Vivian out of the Carmen problem over her ex-husband Rusty Regan. Like Marlowe, that damn alley cat when you  think about although Dotty claimed she tamed his sexual excesses down a bit while they were married going down the pillows with Rita, Eddie’s wife, after he, Marlowe, found out where she was hiding out nad why, after Eddie fell down to his ploy. And other facts that sometime when I get out from under this frivolous law suit I will more fully expose. (This would be a good point to say that the original film called The Big Sleep was remade in the 1980s starring Robert Mitchum where even more liberties were taken with the facts so a look back at the real facts of the case are even more necessary now as I defend myself and my take on the events. I might add that one Dotty Malone, uncredited by her request, was the technical adviser/screen-writer on that remake although this was after I had interviewed her. Axes to grind, axes to grind)   

I admit that I have been a fan of hard-boiled private detective books cadged from the Thomas Lane Public Library in town and films since I was a kid reading about them in those lonely late night hours when with no money I would read and fantasize about their fascinating lives and spending what little money I made caddying for the local Mayfair swells on Saturday afternoon double-bill matinees on the big screen at the Majestic Theater in downtown Adamsville. So I had an idea about the gist of the case if not all the facts when I prepared myself for the interview. Whatever happens with this current legal situation I will be forever in Dotty Malone ‘s debt for giving me so much information that was not available either through the newspaper reports or the police and court records. To speak nothing of the insights into the lifestyle and working relationships in the Hollywood and Los Angeles of the pre-World War II era before everybody with five cents and enough stamina headed west to seek their dreams in the warm California nights. Dotty told me plenty about the bad guys too and the changing of the guard among the bad guys after World War II when things got too hot with the coppers in the East and Midwest and they went so-called legit.

I have to admit as well that in the old days, now a bit as well I took what I knew of the Sternwood case as mainly a high-end well-protected, meaning plenty of police “cooperation,” meaning plenty of graft sliding down the food chain, and very profitable pornography and prostitution operation that Marlowe had to break to keep the Sternwood name out of the scandal sheets and the wild wind daughters out of jail. A very tall task now and then not easy despite the place they had in the community. That part about maybe today my thinking that a lot of it was about the pornography and prostitution operation being key is centered on looking at the court records and finding that those two “revenue streams,” an  anachronistic term but useful today, funded all the other Mars Enterprises operation from the casinos, on and off-shore to the shakedowns of local businesses for “protection” to the drug trade and arson for hire stuff. According to Dotty in 1979, the last link to the case still standing Marlowe had half a belief in that idea himself although it never made the screen (although if a third remake was done today that might be the lynchpin to the plotline which unfortunately Dotty would not be here to write.)

Marlowe had picked up the Sternwood case of the fly, got a referral from his old LA DA’s officemate Bernie Olms when General Sternwood was looking for private eye, shamus, gumshoe whatever you call it in your neighborhood when somebody doesn’t believe the public coppers are up to the task or want something other than bull- in- a-china-shop discretion. Before I describe what the old man and he was an old man wanted Marlowe to do for him I better explain who this Sternwood was, how much water he pulled around Old California. And this is strictly a story out of Old California before the Okies and Arkies got dust-bowled out in the East and headed west looking, well looking for something and before World War II made California the main depot for all kinds stuff for the Pacific War being fought not far from its doorsteps. Neither the Tom Joad Okies, Barron Stallworth Arkies or the factory workers making good wages ever looked back but that is another story which only marginally plays in this saga. The Sternwood name might not mean much now, might not have been the subject of some chapter in American history class or Mister Wells’ history but you cannot understand early 20th century California without knowing about what the Sternwood name meant any more than what Hollywood meant.  

General Sternwood and a couple of other guys lost to history once things started to jump was the La Brea tar pits oil well operator, meaning oil, meaning rich when America went from horse and buggy to cars and fossil fuels to run them. The Sternwood mansion by Marlowe’s time was far away from the even then forgotten oil wells making their noises and stinking up the planet but the dough was still coming in regularly enough to keep the General and his unwisely begotten late in life wild ass daughters, Vivian who at least had some brains if no morals and Carmen who lacked both and much more. In those days all the General had to do was make a couple of telephone calls, or rather have Morris his long-time butler/valet accountant and fixer man do it and whatever rain threatened stopped. Stopped hard and fast. For the matter he wanted Marlowe to attend to though a fine sense of what was going to happen in a fast-changing situation was required.

Here is where Dotty Malone was so helpful. (How she entered the story and how she wound up with Marlowe in her wedded bed I will get to in a minute). The film and the and both court and police records had it that this stumblebum Art Geiger, actually Arthur Gilroy Geiger from a big time Sonoma Valley ranching family which he wanted nothing to do with and we will see why in a minute) was looking for payment on some loans he had made to Sternwood’s younger daughter Carmen, some gambling debts to the tune of five thousand dollars even if they were unenforceable under California law. That was all bullshit though since what Geiger had was some very naughty photographs of Carmen doing all kinds of suggestive sex acts while naked as a jaybird. He needed to blow town, or that is what his message said so five K would work. Naturally since the General had been a playboy in his time and an old rascal having those dangerous daughters so late in life knew that the squeeze would be on forever. Enter Marlowe to see what “was what” with this grift.

You have to know something about pre-war Hollywood, hell, maybe now too except it seems highly unlikely in the Internet Age when your average eight- year old knows more about sex than we knew in adulthood. Also that there is more pornography than you can shake a stick at a lot of it free and a lot available in to anybody looking for any sexual act or perversion on the Internet. Back before the onslaught introduced to the mainstream public by publications like Playboy in the 1950s getting what in the end is usually harmless scenes of nudity, female nudity mostly but male as well or of sexual acts by both sexes getting lurid materials was a hard dollar. Although with the right connections and cash in hand you could satisfy whatever lust or perversion drove you mad with desire. That is where a guy like Geiger came in despite the stricter laws against obscenities then (and against even the idea of prurient interests).

Geiger would cater to the upscale crowd who didn’t want to be seen at what were called “girlie shows” (at least called so by Edward Hopper in a famous painting of his) using his antique and rare books operation as a front. Right out in public. Right on Sunset Boulevard. Which meant two things he was well protected, meaning somebody had the local coppers in their pocket and paid off to keep away from this exchange trading operation. Meant also that Geiger was not operating alone, no way. He was fronting for somebody, somebody who had the dough to pass around and to keep his hands in every crooked thing in town in those days. The days when Eddie Mar (real name Eddie Marston but these bigwig crooks like to do one syllable surnames for some reason some sociologist can figure out) was running everything illegal in Los Angeles County which meant a big tent area. (It may seem hard to believe today but the sex book trade was run like a lending library except you paid serious money to indulge your fantasies and generally harmless perversions turning the books in and getting another. The guys who ran this hustle like Geiger and Mars knew that their customers could only get off on their copies so long before they tired of the same old, same old and needed new stimulus for their lusts. Like finding money on the ground.  Not only that but the temptations of black-mail to keep the lids on was there for the taking just like that money already found on the ground.)   

Geiger was the perfect “front” for Mars’ girlie book operation. Everybody knew he was, as they said then, a fag, a fairy, light on his feet, a homo and to keep protected he had to do Mars’ bidding which was not hard since this sex book stuff was not solely of females. Hot boys were available. One of his young lovers had started out doing photoshoots with Geiger and had a room in his house which it turned out was owned by and rented out to Geiger by one Eddie Mars. Dotty told me that Marlowe had all the ancient prejudices against gays and lesbians, called them every name in the book, would affect a feminine demeanor when he wanted information, for example, about rare books when he wanted to get his hooks into Geiger. Marlowe had been appalled despite his years in Hollywood and knowledge of the various undergrounds tolerated there, some protected like the child pornography circle around one of the major producers when he saw Geiger’s set up which reeked of fag couture and was even more appalled when he saw that lover’s room with its heavy masculine façade along with whips and chains.

Hollywood was the stuff of dreams for any good looking female or guy and drew young people like lemmings to the sea looking for the main chance to get out of places like Butte, Boise, Grand Junction and every point between east or west. Plenty came, some went back home defeated or wised-up but some kept their daggers in, kept clawing their way around town. Working as waiters and waitresses, hatcheck girls, chauffeurs (that was what Geiger’s then current lover Carol was officially on the books as doing for work), gas station jockeys, department store clerks waiting for the big chance, the chance that never came. Others and this maybe the sad part either were conned into, fed dope and developed a nice jones, or freely did the job expecting to get into film via this method posing nude for books, films or “live shows.” The so-called “blue books and movies” of the time that no commercial theater would run and no Mom and Pop corner variety store or drugstore would stock on its magazine racks. When counted up Gieger’s operation had something like five hundred books filled with women doing every possible sex act and or just posing all doped up so he needed a huge supply of new faces to keep the cash flow moving along. The women got a couple of bucks, some dope, or nothing except a “promise” of future cinematic considerations.        

(By the way Geiger’s operation was strictly a female swap shop which was part of its charms for the high-end clientele knowing where Geiger was on the sexual charts. What Dotty did not learn until a few years later was that the owner of her own  bookstore, more on that when we connect her to Marlowe the first time, the “front man” Bill Cadger was a known “lady’s man” who was running the “male” side of the operation for as you might guess one Eddie Mars, sole owner and operator of Eddie Mars Enterprises. Additionally, despite the tough guy act and it was real, at least Eddie  had the stooges to enforce his play until the end and he knew how to call the rough play when warranted was either gay himself or was bisexual. Had actually “dated” some of Hollywood’s leading men (those who were gay like Rock Hudson, Rory Calhoun, Jim Bell, Sam Devine, etc.) which gave him the male side lead into the tons of hard-pressed guys who needed dough to avoid those Boise, Butte, Grand Island horrors where maybe broken young women could go back home and go forward but not to the shackled “closeted” life, not after Hollywood wild boy shows.               
   
This is probably as good a place as any to point out why Eddie Mars was able to run everything dirty and scandalous in Southern California before the war and how he was able to get his claws into the Sternwood circle via his entrapment of young nymphomaniacal   Carmen and as it would turn out later Vivian who had her own vices to hone. It might also help explain why I, and Dotty told me she was had been bothered by it as well, had originally thought the whole thing had been about wayward sex among the upper-crust and their toadies. Eddie had been born in California, born in Valley boy Fresno, yes, they had Valley boys even then, you know guys who had souped-up jalopies, grease under their fingernails and the choice of Valley girls, read easy girls then since that car was an irresistible lure for even the more virginal among the female portion of youth nation tribe of the times. Eddie hung around with that crowd to learn toughness and distain, learn too who could be trusted to do whatever needed to be done to move up the ladder.

Yes, Eddie was an original bright boy with big plans and big ideas. After the war he would have been lucky to be running numbers on Bunker Hill, maybe a go-fer for some of the really tough guys who descended on LA following the suckers to the golden land. They would have had Eddie for lunch and had time for a nap it would have been that easy for serious leg-breakers to bust his play. We all know that he never survived the war, never survived even the start of the war so we will give the devil his due and good luck.  Before the war he had it all figured out though, had his rise all figured and he knew maybe from day one it would center on drugs (big time drugs like cocaine much easier to get and legal then) and the sex trade (a growth industry since about the Whore of Babylon times and manna from heaven when the big cinema guys decided to blew New York and head west to make their films, and big bags of money with girls and boys with more good looks that brains following as sure as night follows day).  


All those skills and you would be surprised how few people actually could conger up the assortment of skills, fair or foul, to get to the top of the heap counted a lot in those days and Eddie rose through Pat Scanlon’s ranks before taking over himself when Pat got waylaid one night, rumor had it by one of Eddie’s minions. What Eddie brought to the table was fresh ideas about how to increase the revenue stream via this blue book, blue move grift to go along with the traditional white slave trade, the drugs, the fencing of stolen goods, funding armed robberies, and the numbers running and bookie operations. All fronted by the casino, Club Nana, which was the perfect money laundering vehicle. Eddie, according to Dotty already mentioned above, half pansy himself, would troll the Hollywood underworld looking for fairy queens like Art Geiger (sorry but those were the words of abuse used, some like “queen” even used by the gay community if we could call the closeted situation that then as coded references) to set up bookshops as vehicles to make the blue book trade look respectable. In Geiger’s case he was already running an antiques operation on his own cadging black- market objects for upscale clients looking for the odd and unusual as party talk material.

Eddie, pretty boy Eddie, either seduced Art himself or had one of his stable, Carol Lundgrund probably, do his bidding since Art liked them young. (While Dotty was working that bookstore across the street she would notice young guys, seemingly younger and younger as time went on, leave with Art and show up the next morning in tow. Dotty could put two and two together.) This Carol guy, Art’s last lover and while very pretty in leather was a loose cannon and a simpleton too who wound up killing the wrong guy when his man Art took a few slugs by parties unknown. Whatever their respective fates Eddie had Art by the claws since he would then threaten to expose Art’s homosexuality which had legal implications and Art caved in to Eddie’s operations. Nice people, right.

So much for that though since it is now story time, time to tell the tale although as Dotty pointed out to me a lot of stuff will never see the light of day because somebody in high places was protecting the Sternwood name when that mattered. Or the coppers screwed up the investigation so badly that they buried plenty of the details. Or and this grieves me to say Marlowe played his hand too close to the vest, decided to get too cute and messed up stuff that he had to bury and leave Dotty out in the dark on. We already know that Marlowe took the job of figuring how to get Geiger off the Sternwood back and as part of that process went to the library and read up on rare books, real rare books, to see if the operation was legit. For his efforts he had been stonewalled by a blonde twist named Agnes who worked for Geiger or rather worked for Eddie to keep an eye on Geiger and provide a pleasant front of the house person when the salacious gents came to get their lusty blue books. Her knowledge of rare books was inverse to her good looks (and Marlowe would later take a run at her himself winding up under some Agnes sheets but she was a high maintenance type and always looking for the next best thing, some sugar daddy).

That led to the Marlowe meeting with Dotty since he did not have a clue as to what Geiger looked like. He noticed the bookstore across the street and went in to find Dotty busy stocking books and looking kind of bored. After checking her out from head to toe (according to Dotty’s less than modest recollections although in her late forties when I interviewed her she still looked good, still had that something that guys from six to sixty would crawl on their hands and knees for) he asked her to describe Geiger, she did and ever curious asked why Marlowe asked. He told her about the run-in with Agnes and one thing led to another and she closed up the shop for a few hours while she and Marlowe drank some convenient whiskies and did the tango, the male-female tango. What nobody knew then and this is important Dotty and Marlowe would remain lovers (on occasion all through the case, while Marlowe was married to Vivian Sternwood and as already known would eventually marry Marlowe herself.)

Dotty, not only because she subsequently became a very famous and much in demand screen-writer but because of that affair/marriage with Marlowe, knew as much as any living soul about the interior of the Sternwood story. Dotty had headed west after Bryn Mawr looking for a job in the film industry (much against her parent’s objections since they had at some sacrifice paid the freight for her education and wanted her to write serious novels-in the East). As a million before her did and after too she hit town at the wrong time when nobody was hiring and determined to stick it out she looked for work where she could find some first as a cocktail waitress which she left quickly since as a virginal somewhat naïve young woman she could not handle being man-handled and propositioned constantly. She would shortly thereafter lose that virginity to a wannabe actor who called himself Jim Fisk as a stage name then but who would earn lasting fame as the legendary Robert Maslow. It was Fisk who told Dotty “what was what” about getting into the film business, male or female, via the casting couch. That is how she learned about guys, stars, like Randy Davis, Bill Connors and Rory Calvin who “earned” their places in the sun at first on those hard couches for some odd characters with pull.

Doty confirmed the obvious. Geiger had tried to put the bite on General Sternwood with the cover story about gambling debts figuring to replicate a guy named Joe Brody’s trick of hitting pay dirt the first time he tried that hustle. Working under the tried and true principle burglars use of hitting the same house twice (and fast) since the homeowner figured he or she was in the clear as victim and let down their guard. The burglar-con artist figured differently, figured better –“soft touch.” This Joe Brody, the soon to be late Joe Brody, figures twice here, first as already mentioned fall guy for Geiger’s boyfriend Carol’s unwise choose of him as Geiger’s murderer and secondly as that twit blonde twist Agnes’ boyfriend who put Geiger on to the soft touch gag to pay for her coffee and crullers. Enter Marlowe to clean the decks of unwanted trash accumulating around the Sternwood name. Geiger, maybe Joe too, made the wrong decision to work a scam they were not experts at. Geiger though was ready and able to hit pay dirt with his beautiful con of young, impressible women looking for Hollywood glitter. He grabbed Carmen into the play with a little dope but it really wasn’t all that hard to convince any man’s woman Carmen into taking her clothes off for the cameras.     

Carmen, unlike her older sister, was a brainless bimbo by all accounts and if it wasn’t Geiger it would be somebody else who would catch her naked on camera and exploit that advantage. Trying to say anything positive about Carmen Dotty was hard-pressed to think of anything except when Marlowe showed her the suspect photos she whistled that many a Beverly Hills professional man would be crying in his sleep for not being able to leer over that body in his dreams. (By the way don’t believe all that stuff about seeking rough justice, tilting at windmills Marlowe he had kept the photos of Carmen which he told Vivian he had destroyed for his own pleasure which is how Dotty wound up seeing them and making her sassy comments. Also don’t believe Marlowe was impervious to Carmen’s out-front charms after he had been in the Sternwood mansion about five minutes and she did a lap dance on him. After his interview with the General and a job and after an unsuccessful interview with Vivian he headed up to Carmen’s room for a one-time romp, one time being enough for any sane man.)    
                  
Whatever Carmen’s charms or lack of morals her escapades set off all the subsequent actions-and wasted bloodshed. Once the chauffer Owen heard that Geiger was having Carmen under that lovely dope head and brain do whatever sex acts including off-hand blow jobs with one of his protégés he coaxed her to perform he went crazy, went out to the Geiger house in secluded Bel Aire and blew him away. That in turn led to Art’s enraged rough trade lover Carol (a pretty boy’s name for sure all leather pure) acting foolishly and blowing Joey B away and which led parties still unknown to waste Owen (although Marlowe always maintained that one of Eddie Mars’ goof boys, a free-lancer named Pharaoh Jack who specialized in such tactics did him in at the famous Lido Pier dunking which got poor Owen all wet and very dead with a sap to the side of the head). After that it was all downhill, mostly with Marlowe acting as clean up man like in baseball. The cops for their own purposes, once Marlowe gave them Carol to whet their appetites, clamped the whole thing down as lovers’ quarrels and homo bullshit. Case closed. Nothing to lose sleep over.          

No way not if you knew Marlowe and his funny justice jag. He knew that General Sternwood could have given a damn about standing for a squeeze from grifters like Joe Brophy or even Carol Lundgren (who planned to parlay the Geiger estate into his nest-egg with those Carmen (and others) luscious photos). What the General worried his old tired head about was whether the legendary IRA commander Rusty Regan who made the Black and Tan cry their fill and who had fled Ireland after the troubles subsided on the advice of a couple of irate husbands looking for greener pastures in lush America had been involved in the soft touches. Rusty had landed on the General’s front floor via a tryst and marriage to older daughter Vivian who’s more discriminating than her sister’s motto was that she was every other man’s woman.  The marriage did not take but the eternal bonding between the two men could not be broken by time or women. Then Rusty fell down, left for parts unknown allegedly with one tough guy Eddie Mars’s torch-singer wife Rita by all accounts a very beautiful woman who caused many a man a restless night (and who “fronted” for those bisexual and gay rumors about Eddie which in those days was enough to keep that noise down).

The whole Rusty Regan search is what confused what was a simple sex and drugs case that went awry when some holy goof didn’t realize that high society girls like Carmen (or Vivian) were as capable of getting down in the mud as any wrong side of the tracks tramp. This is where I still think it is better to keep the theme along that sex and drugs track even if the play from here on in goes in the other direction. Goes to covering up what happened to our man Rusty Regan. By now everybody should know that Carmen was nothing but a man trap (men trap is maybe better). Even when Vivian was married to Rusty he was sharing Carmen’s bed whenever Vivian was out of town (and a few times when she was in the house, ouch). But as Marlowe found out a little more quickly a little of Carmen is enough, nothing but high maintenance. When Rusty tried to get out from under Carmen did what Carmen always did pout and suck her thumb-and place two bullets in Rusty’s blood red heart. Once Vivian found that out everything else makes sense. She went to Eddie for a big blanket cover-up- and got it. For an Eddie price (her losing at his stinking gambling tables as the form of payment and rumor had it a few nights under the silky sheets when Eddie was in what was his hetero mood). To put a big tent over the whole thing Eddie had that ravishing wife blow town as if she had bene Rusty’s mistress.       
 
The pact with the devil would have probably worked forever except Marlowe had that quirky nature and kept pushing for answers for his client. He got them too the hard way when some little punk got wasted by that Pharaoh Jack who liked the sap to the head but also tricky little poisonous drug potions. When that harmless punk fell down Marlowe decided to bust the whole crummy Mars operation (which when the Chicago boys led by Whitey Tiller came through after the war they greatly appreciated and took good care of Marlowe as a result). Willowy Rita, Eddie’s wife was hanging out about twenty miles outside of town at Art Hunk’s garage waiting for the call back to Eddie’s loving arms. She was being looked after by Pharaoh Jack, or held hostage is better. Marlowe found her location and wasted Jack. Done, not quite. Eddie had to fall and he did when Marlowe planned a meet at Geiger’s house (remember really Eddie’s) where he got there before the lost boy Eddie who brought those two goofs with him. Eddie figured, figured wrong he had the upper hand and would finally take down the bothersome Marlowe. No way since Eddie had told his dumbos to shot whoever came out the door first. Eddie fell down and nobody cried about it from police department headquarters to the Sternwood estate.

After that Vivian and Marlowe played house for a while but as with Carmen a little Vivian went a long way and after a nice settlement they were divorced. Then the secret arrangement between Dotty and him could go public. As everybody now knows that is not the end, will not be the end until I duke these estate executors of hers. Done              


The Trials And Tribulations Of Legendary Artist Jasper Johns-The Double Yoke Of Being A Closeted Gay Man And Growing Up In Bible- Belt Southern America-It Was A Close Thing.

The Trials And Tribulations Of Legendary Artist Jasper Johns-The Double Yoke Of Being A Closeted Gay Man And Growing Up In Bible- Belt Southern America-It Was A Close Thing.





By Ronan Saint James


Ordinarily I would not put the relationship between an artist and where he or she grew up and under what conditions under too strong a microscope letting happenstance and innate ability run its course as more determinative. But a recent trip to the South, close to where the artist under discussion, legendary Jasper Johns he of the Amerikkka flags, figures symbols, maps and other stuff hanging out of his artwork like the inevitably spending a life measured by coffee spoons and hence the need for coffee cans, grew up made me realize how close a thing it was that he escaped from the desperate ghost town he grew up in down in Allendale, South Carolina.

The first thing you notice, no, that I noticed in one town, Travelers Rest, I passed through was how many Baptist churches there were in a few mile area. I counted something like fifteen along one short stretch which seemed impossible given the size of the town and the actual population. Without knowing whether this number of churches represented a church for each person in the town or reflected various arcane theological differences it seemed frankly weird.

Living in a Northeastern secular cultural enclave, a bubble if you like, this bears more observation and study. All I know is that it goes a long way in describing why we are as Frank Jackman of this publication has described on many occasions a cold civil-these are partisans on the other side. Unless we can bridge some unbridgeable gap the die seems to be cast-and not our way necessarily so we had better dig in and organize like our lives depended on it.        

Of course when you talk about the South, about this South that a gay man like Tennessee Williams wrote plays about and the general attitude of Baptists and other evangelical toward gays then you have to address the long-term lovers’ relationship between Johns and fellow artist Ricard Rauschenberg and can totally understand why Johns had to flee that berg for his life in the closeted gay life 1950s. As a post-Stonewall, almost post-gay marriage man I feel though I have very little understanding how hard it must have been to thrive under those South Carolina circumstances. So hats off brother, hats off to your art too which has given me many an enjoyable and thoughtful moment.    

West Virginia Teachers Spike Charter School Gambit

Workers Vanguard No. 1150
8 March 2019
 
West Virginia Teachers Spike Charter School Gambit
On February 19, teachers and other education workers shut down schools across West Virginia, beating back a legislative effort to reverse the gains of last year’s nine-day strike (see “West Virginia School Strike: Militant Union Battle Ends,” WV No. 1129, 9 March 2018). Members of the American Federation of Teachers (AFT), the West Virginia Education Association and the West Virginia School Service Personnel Association, which includes school bus drivers, struck in opposition to Senate Bill 451 (SB 451), a frontal attack on public education.
Widely seen as retaliation for last year’s strike, SB 451 would have drained state funds from public schools toward subsidizing tuition for private and religious schools; established charter schools in the state for the first time; eliminated seniority and made firing teachers easier. Four hours into the walkout, legislators temporarily postponed the bill. Determined not to be stabbed in the back again by the legislature, the teachers stayed on strike for another day.
Last year’s strike sparked a wave of teachers’ walkouts across the country, many in “right to work” states like West Virginia, where teachers are prohibited by law from striking and lacked collective bargaining rights. The architects of SB 451 cynically thought they could buy off the teachers by tacking on an extra 5 percent wage increase, seeking to divide the teachers from the many parents and others who supported their defense of public education. As one striker stated: “Our students are not for sale…. We’ve seen the charter school system fail students all across the U.S. and that’s why we are risking our pay raise to defeat this bill” (jacobinmag.com, 20 February). The power of strike action was further seen two days after the strike, when a separate bill granting the pay increase was passed by the House of Delegates.
The teachers showed that waging class struggle is the only way to win. They faced down not only the anti-labor legislators, but also the pro-capitalist misleaders of their own unions. Teachers had been calling for a work stoppage for weeks before the union tops agreed to sanction a strike. Union tops finally yielded to the teachers’ calls for a work stoppage to kill this bill. Five days before the strike, Fred Albert, president of the West Virginia AFT, was encouraging his members to accept an earlier version of the bill that would have also allowed charters—just at a slower pace. AFT national president Randi Weingarten had the same position. In an attempt to justify his sellout position, Albert pointed to the lack of a Democratic legislative majority, which “presents a completely different scenario than last year”—a clear illustration that the union tops’ ties to the Democrats are a stranglehold on labor struggle. No less than the Republicans, the capitalist Democrats have championed charter schools, attacked public education and vilified teachers unions.
The ongoing effort by the bourgeoisie in West Virginia to gut public education underscores that any strike settlement, even a successful one, is only a temporary truce in the ongoing class war. Every gain wrested by the workers and oppressed will be under attack until the capitalist rulers are swept away by a workers revolution that establishes a workers government. When those who labor rule, the vast riches that are today pocketed by the capitalists will be used to begin rebuilding this society for the benefit of all, including quality, integrated public schools from coast to coast.

In Honor Of The 100th Anniversary Of The Founding of The Communist International-From The Archives- *A Short Note On History And The Individual- A Tale Of Sorts

Click on title to link to the early Russian Marxist George Plekhanov's essay "The Role Of The Individual In History" that forms the philosophical backdrop to this little anecdotal commentary. Yes, I know, when the deal went down Plekhanov was on the wrong side of the Russian revolution of 1917 but every Russian Marxist, including Lenin and Trotsky, notes the debt they owe to the early Plekhanov. A debt we acknowledge here as well.

Commentary

I have spent no little amount of ink in this space over the last year giving some personal and political reminiscences concerning that key year of my youth, 1968. Among them I included my last ditch efforts to stay within the bourgeois political world fighting to elect Robert Kennedy as president- and then Hubert Horatio Humphrey. I still blush over that one. I do not propose to continue on, for the most part, in that vein this year as I believe that I have adequately made most of the important points already.

I do, however, have this one comment to make that may shed some light on a question that has plagued me since early in my youth, although I may have not been able to articulate it that way then. The question: What is the relationship between the individual and the flow of human history? As a long time Marxist I could make a long intellectual argument concerning this subject and the linked relationship between the two, and have done so in the past. Here I merely propose to use a personal event in my life to highlight the vagaries of the historical process even for one who firmly believes that history has some connectedness.

The impetus for this little saga is the fact that this year marks the 40th anniversary of my induction, as a draftee, into the American army in 1969. (Yes, I know that I am drifting perilously close to that oft-cited habit that I have cast scorn on in this space concerning oddball commemorations by others-but bear with me here.) That event hardly made me unique as some two million plus men (mainly) revolved through military service during that period. Although draft resisters got far more attention at the height of the opposition to the Vietnam War, and at some level rightly so, far more young men were like me- hating the war but patriotic or fearful enough of the alternatives (jail or exile) to be drafted. I certainly was no Bolshevik at the time and did not enter the military along with other working class kids with the idea of “bringing the war home” to use the parlance of the times. That understanding came later after my military service had ended.

I would, in any case, rather speak here of consequences of my military service and not the political wisdom of it. Many who served during that Vietnam War period came home shattered, forlorn, broken or otherwise afflicted. Some just came home and put it behind them, one way or another. A few of us became permanent oppositionists to bourgeois society. That is the point I find interesting and an appropriate subject for comment lo these many years later.

No question that had I not been drafted that I would have gone along on some kind of left-social democratic parliamentary track and today, probably, would be going ‘ga-ga’ over ‘comrade' Obama. Or worse. Moreover, as I have noted previously in commenting on other personal political anniversaries I came to opposition later than most of my “Generation Of ‘68” but find that I have stayed the course better for all that, certainly better than the vast majority who have made their peace with this imperialist society.

That, my friends, is what this little tale is all about. I did not have any input into the contours of Vietnam War strategy, or the opposition to it. That was left to “the best and brightest” of the Kennedy/Johnson cabal on the one side or professional pacifists/and social-democratic organizations like the Communist Party or Socialist Workers Party on the other. Yet, my time of decision was that during that time period and thus I was compelled to make judgments based on that reality. I ask: is that or is that not one of those little vagaries of history that Marx mentioned? Humankind makes its own history, although not always to its own liking. Nevertheless humankind makes it. That truth and the fight to put us in a position to “like" our own creation are what have kept me going. Enough said.

The First Lady Of The Mountains-The Late Hazel Dickens

The First Lady Of The Mountains-The Late Hazel Dickens




By Si Landon
    
The Hills Of Home, Hazel Dickens

Jack Callahan caught the folk minute bug when he was in high school in his hometown of Carver after having heard some songs that held him in thrall over a fugitive radio station from Rhode Island, a college station, that every Sunday night would have a two hour show called Bill Marlowe’s Hootenanny where he, Bill Marlowe, would play all kinds of songs from the latest protest songs of the likes of Bob Dylan and Phil Ochs to old country blues to Western Swing and everything in between, a fast paced glance at a very different part of the American songbook. What got to Jack, what caused him to pay attention though was the mountain music that he heard, things like East VirginiaPretty Polly and his favorite the mournful Come All You Fair And Tender Ladies sung by Linda Lane, a forgotten treasure of a singer from deep in the Tennessee hills now.

Now this adhesion to folk minute was quite by accident since most Sunday nights if Jack was listening to anything it was Be-Bop Benny’s Blues Hour out of WNAC in Chicago. Usually in those days something had gone awry or some ghost was in the air in radio wave land and he had caught that station and then the Rhode Island Station, WAFJ. Although he was becoming something of an aficionado of blues just then and would become something of a folk one as well his real love then was the be-bop classic rock and roll music that was a signature genre for his generation. He never lost the love of rock or the blues but he never went all out to discover material he had never heard before like he did with mountain music. 

One summer while he was in college he had decided rather than a summer job he would head south down to mountain country, you know West Virginia, Kentucky maybe rural Virginia and see if he could find some tunes that he had not heard before. (That “no job” decision did not set well with his parents, his poor parents who both worked in the local industry, the cranberry bogs, when that staple was the town’s claim to fame so he could go to college but that is a story for another day). Now it was not strange in those days for all kinds of people, mostly college students with time on their hands, archivists, or musicians to travel down to the southern mountains and elsewhere in search of authentic American music by the “folk.” Not professional archivists like Pete Seeger’s father, Charles, or the Lomaxes, father and son, or inspired amateurs like Harry Smith but young people looking for roots which was a great occupation of the generation that came of age in the 1960s in reaction to their parents’ generation trying might and main to favor vanilla Americanization.      

A lot of the young, and that included Jack who read the book in high school, had first been tuned into Appalachia through Michael Harrington’s The Other America which prompted them to volunteer to help their poor brethren. Jack was somewhat animated by that desire to help but his real purpose was to be a gadfly who found some hidden trove of music that others had not found. In this he was following the trail started by the Lally Brothers, a local Boston folk group who were dedicated to the preservation of mountain music and having headed south had “discovered” Buell Hobart, the lonesome fiddler and had brought him north to do shows and be acclaimed as the “max daddy” of the mountain world.     

Jack had spent a couple of weeks down in Kentucky after having spent a couple of weeks striking out West Virginia where, for a fact, most of the rural folk were either rude or suspicious of his motives when he inquired about the whereabouts of some old-time red barn musicians he had read about from outside Wheeling. Then one night, one Saturday night he found himself in Prestonsburg, down in southeast Kentucky, down in coal country where the hills and hollows extent for miles around. He had been brought to that town by a girl, a cousin of Sam Lowell’s on his father’s side from back home in Carver. Sam had told Jack to look her up if he ever got to Hazard where his father had hailed from and had lived before World War had driven him to the Marines and later to love of his mother from Carver.   

This girl, a pretty girl to boot, Nadine, had told Jack that mountain music had been played out in Hazard, that whatever legends about the coal wars and about the music had long gone from that town. She suggested that he accompany her to an old-fashioned red barn dance that was being held weekly at Fred Brown’s place on Saturday nights on the outskirts of Prestonsburg if he wanted to hear the “real deal” (Jack’s term). That night when they arrived and paid their dollar apiece jack saw a motley crew of fiddlers, guitar player, and a few what Nadine called mountain harps.


The first half of the dance went uneventfully enough but the second half, after he had been fortified with what the locals called white lightning, illegal whiskey, this woman came up to the stage after being introduced although he did not for some reason, maybe the sting of the booze and began to play the mountain harp and sing a song, The Hills of Home, that had everybody mesmerized. She sang a few other songs that night and Jack marveled at her style. When Jack asked Nadine who that woman singer was she told him a gal from “around those parts” (her expression) Hazel Dickens and wasn’t she good. When Jack got back to Boston a few weeks later (after spending more time with friendly Nadine that searching for mountain music he contacted the Lally Brothers to see if they could coax her north for college audiences to hear. And that was Jack Callahan’s small contribution to keeping the mountain music tradition alive. For her part Hazel Dickens did before she dies several years ago did much, much more to keep the flame burning.