July 1, 2016
The Vampyres Of New York
Angeline woke up in a fine frame of mind. Just as a test I quickly flipped her in and out, the hypnosis was working as before. Now began the hard part; what to do with her second personality. With a little luck it might prove that they didn’t give her a third or fourth but I didn’t perceive any evidence of it.
I thought it might be best to try to combine Ange’s second personality replacing it with a dream world, a sort of false memory, and only a nightmare hence not real and threatening while as a dream I hoped it could be eliminated.
While a vacated second personality might still exist perhaps with time it could be forgotten or fade away. For myself my own painful early personality had become dissociated from myself existing more or less as a parallel universe that had nothing to do with me.
I will spare you the details of our work over the next couple days. While I think we made progress the work seemed far from done. There was some means to transfer the memory images from the second personality to the dream life of the first personality that had me baffled. The purification rites with Hera did seem to remove any sense of responsibility from Angeline’s mind but the memories were still there.
While in her first state she couldn’t consciously remember her activities in the second state still the mind has only one subconscious and that was affected equally by both the first and second states. The deeper I got into her mind the better I understood her catatonia. But, it was Friday and time for our luncheon date with Lessing.
As I had devised a plan to possibly foil any spy agents Ragnar had the limo ready at ten. We drove up to Lessing’s. While standing in his lobby that I thought could be bugged while Lessing should have been able to recognize strangers I explained that my idea was to take the ferry to Staten Island, rent a car and drive to the abandoned Seaview Asylum where I thought it unlikely that we could be overheard. I asked Ragnar to call for a rent-a-car as we would have to leave the limo at the Whitehall Terminal.
Me: The ride’s on me Lessing.
Ragnar: Sure. The ferry’s free.
Me: Aren’t you the spoil sport Ragnar.
Lessing: Funny. Lived here all my life and I’ve never been to Staten Island.
Ange: Me neither.
Me: I just got here and me neither. I’m looking forward to it.
Ange: Any idea how long it takes?
Me: Five miles, about half an hour. Ferries leave every half hour. It’ll be great. Love the ferries in Seattle. If you ever get the chance take the ferry through the San Juans. That’s a wonderful trip.
Lessing: What are the San Juans?
Me: They’re a group of five islands I believe, up on the Canadian border. Small islands but romantic. You can stay at Friday Harbor on San Juan Island and take the ferry back in the morning. Great fun. Plus unlike the Staten Island Ferry you can take your car.
Once aboard Lessing had a puzzling experience.
Lessing: Hello Angeline. Do you remember me?
Ange: I’m sorry, Lessing is it? I don’t think we’ve ever met.
Lessing: Strange. I thought we attended a couple parties together a few years back.
Ange: I don’t think so. I’m sure I’d remember someone like you Lessing.
Lessing: Maybe or maybe not. But I seem…
Me: Lessing, I’ll explain as soon as we’re in the car. This is going to amaze you.
Lessing: That was a wonderful trip. I don’t know how I could have lived here this long and not have taken it before.
Me: Bravo, Ragnar. A Mercedes. Thoughtful of you; how did you swing that on such short notice?
Ragnar: We chauffeurs have our ways.
Me: Great. Punch in Seaview Asylum and let’s get some directions. This place is supposed to be in central Staten Island. Ruins. You’ll love it if you like ruins.
Lessing: Oh, ruins, yes. Nothing like a good ruin. Do they have a ruined restaurant?
Me: Naw. We’ll have to stop on the way. Get something to take along. If you see a MacDonald’s pull over Ragnar.
Ange: MacDonald’s? Don’t you really like Burger King better Partly?
Me: Not really. Actually I prefer Jack-In-The-Box but I didn’t think you’d have them out here. If that’s what you prefer, it’s all right with me.
Lessing: If I have to, it doesn’t matter one way or the other to me. I’m not sure that this will be a first with me but close to it.
Ange: Ooh, a snob.
Lessing: A man of distinction and taste.
Me: Oh, come on Lessing, a little plebeianism won’t hurt you any. We’ll do some fine dining later.
Lessing: I believe you said that you and uh…Mrs. Wright ware married Perry. May I ask how you met and hooked so quickly?
Me: Why not? It’s one of those matches made in heaven, Lessing, so far at least. I was at the Nordstrom’s opening as was Ange, our eyes locked and that was it.
Lessing: Ha! I’ve heard of it before but I’ve never seen it.
Ange: It’s true. Partly rescued me from a world of desolation and loneliness. Why do you call Partly Perry?
Lessing: Because Partly told me to call him Perry.
Ange: Well, you do have multiple personalities Partly, or is it Perry?
Me: I’ve only got one, at least only one I use or use consistently, not that I’m trying to be confusing Ange, but I have many facets to the one personality. For people that don’t know me I adopted Perry because Partly always mystifies people. For you Ange, I prefer you call me Partly. I hope we can all keep our identities straight.
Lessing: But, Angeline, you did work at Barton, Dustbin didn’t you? You were a pretty good real estate lawyer there.
Ange: I was a top real estate lawyer there. Top. I wrote some of the biggest deals on the East Coast and as far West as Chicago.
Me: Ooh, that far West?
Lessing: And you don’t remember me Angeline?
Me: I’ll have to explain Lessing. This bears directly on our ability to manage the police and courts. Now listen carefully Lessing because you might have difficulty believing what you are about to hear. You are a lawyer and I’m sure you believe the best of your legal fraternity while probably considering Merivale Adelstein to be a good lawyer and a fine man. You are about to learn differently. Did you ever hear of a Dr. Wormowitz?
Lessing: No, I don’t think I know the name.
Me: Fine. Now, the period we’re talking about is the late seventies and the eighties here in New York. Things were Satanic, violent, druggy and sexually insane. Women’s liberation essentially meant that men could fuck any and all at will. But sexual relations still had consequences. The problem for men was how to avoid the consequences.
Merivale and his colleagues at BAAD worked out what has ‘till now the perfect plan seemingly negating any consequences. The plan was simple. The women could be hypnotized, indoctrinated and conditioned to be perfect sexual objects. Party girls. The girls could be told to remember nothing they did under hypnosis. Thus BAAD had a cadre of partly girls handy for an afternoon delight when things got frustrating or they were emasculated in a courtroom brawl.
Of course once trained one didn’t want them drifting away so they were given exorbitant salaries to keep them at BAAD. They were thus getting good workers and party girls for what was really a particularly good price as if they had to hire working girls for their sexual wants the price for those alone would have been far more than their ‘employees’ were being paid. Thus, the women were actual monarch slaves although not chattel or even obvious slaves as I think you can figure out.
Wormowitz who was Jewish may or may not have been a doctor as he came over from Germany in the thirties and probably lacked any degree nevertheless was an accomplished hypnotist and from practice a fairly knowledgeable psycho-analyst. BAAD billed him an MD and sent the girls to him as a condition of employment for a physical. It was he who hypnotized them and began their indoctrination and conditioning.
Ange was one of those monarch slaves. When she says she doesn’t remember you it is because Angeline I was never at one of those parties; it was as Angeline II. I hope that clears that up.
Lessing: I’m sorry Angeline.
Ange: It was a different time and different place and it didn’t involve me.
Me: No. One might say she wasn’t there. Now Lessing, we have a list of several dozen women who were exploited by the men of BAAD. We have a list of a couple hundred men, mostly lawyers from BAAD and some few others who might surprise you, including actually, yourself.
There is a whole litany of crimes committed by BAAD here, crimes punishable by good long spells in prison not to mention the destruction of careers and lives, nearly all of them are still alive.
This should get us enough leverage to prevent any of our people not only out of jail but not arrested in the first place. As police everywhere have been told to stand down when Negroes, Mexicans and whatever have rioted assaulting Whites our own people have now been re-enfranchised and can do what they deem with impunity.
Ragnar: Bravo, bravo. We now have no worries.
Me: Yes, Ragnar, you can turn the troops loose.
Ange: Boy, this is one spooky place.
Me: What? What? Spookier than you think. This place was used for conclaves of the Son of Sam conspirators, the Final Judgment people. Amazing that buildings like this are allowed to go to ruins. Acres and Acres of what were fine grounds allowed to be overgrown.
Ragnar: Not overgrown, returned to nature.
Lessing: Yes, of course. This is good news Perry. I can certainly turn it to good effect.
Me: I hope so. But we’ll have to be alert for the reaction. I’m sure Adelstein is a resourceful guy and certainly keen on the self-defense. I’ve been set-up several times back in Oregon so I know what to look out for. I don’t know all the tricks but they always use the same ones. At least this time I know who I’m dealing with and have ample resources.
So, Lessing, how soon can you set them up?
Lessing: Right away. I’ll set up a meeting with you, Angeline and myself with Merivale so that he knows that he’s up against the wall. I’ve got it, Perry, now can we get out of this used up asylum? Angeline is right the place is too spooky. I expect to be assaulted by the ghosts of lunatics all the time.
Me: Yeah, well, the ghosts of lunatics can’t hurt you like the lunatics were going to be dealing with.
The conversation continued as we walked back to the car for the return trip to the ferry slip. Lessing changed the topic as we set out.
Lessing: There’s a meeting of the Serapion Brethren this Friday Perry, are you coming?
Me: Yes. Am I to pick up where I left off?
Lessing: We prefer to have a different reader at each session, if that’s alright with you.
Me: Perfect as a matter of fact. Who’s up?
Lessing: Max Savings is going to present an essay on the confiscation of the Russian art treasure by the Soviets.
Me: Sounds great.
Ange: What is the Serapion Brethren?
Lessing: It’s a study group Perry and I belong to Angeline. We meet and discuss any submerged aspect of history.
Ange: Where did you get the name Lessing?
Lessing: We borrowed it from a fictional group of the same name created by ETA Hoffman. Have you read any Hoffman, Angeline?
Ange: In college we had to read a story by Hoffman I think. Something about an eccentric jeweler or even crazy, he hated to part with his creations so much he burgled the buyers houses and stole them back. Creepy.
Lessing: That one’s called Mademoiselle Scudery.
Ange: Oh yes. I remember now. Are you going to leave me alone Friday night Partly?
Me: I’ll have to Ange but as Frankie told Johnnie: I won’t be gone very long.
Ange: You better come back.
Me: You and I are one Ange. You need have no fears. Don’t be insecure.
Ragnar: Are you going to help us out establishing our turf Partly?
Me: Yes. I’ll start a magazine so we can all keep in touch and stay informed. I’ll come down tomorrow morning to see where things stand. But, listen Ragnar and Lessing, remember that Angeline is an accomplished lawyer and she is the key for controlling the legal end so she deserves a full share of respect. She has things to contribute.
Where do matters rest now?
Ragnar: We are roughed out in Aryan areas on the East Side from ninety-second down to the Bowery and across town from fifty-second to about seventieth but maybe a little higher and lower. Madison, Park and Fifth are free passageways we have to allow. We avoid the subways.
There have been some serious clashes and some of our guys are in the jug. We want them out.
Me: How is it going on the legal end Lessing?
Lessing: With our present organization we’ve been able to keep them in Manhattan but we haven’t been able to get them out. Angeline’s info will strengthen us greatly. Adelstein himself is powerful and his connections can get things done.
Me: Hmm. Angeline can call him and have him meet her- that is at her apartment. The rest will fall out. You don’t have anything important doing tomorrow night do you Lessing?
Lessing: No, I’m free.
By now, we were back aboard the ferry for the return trip. Passing a newsstand I grabbed a paper. I hadn’t been able to keep up for the last several days while tending Ange. The news was eye popping.
Me: My goodness. Look at the pictures of Chicago in flames. Is this 1871 revisted?
Lessing: Where have you been Perry? That mess started three days ago.
Me: I was otherwise employed.
Ange: Let me see that Partly.
Me: So a major revolt has begun in Chicago? Is this just a riot or what?
Ragnar: More than a riot; it’s fighting for real. Our guys are on the alert.
Lessing: the papers only give a hint as to what is going down. It’s really bad. The carnage is going to be terrible.
It started on the South side when some Blacks attacked a police station. When reinforcements were sent the whole place erupted. The West Side and all areas joined in. Lines of citizens have formed around Black areas where possible. Constant shooting across lines but apparently infra-Black areas are wars of Blacks against Blacks. The killing is intense.
As you know there are no grocery stores across the lines so food is already short. ‘Humanitarian’ White groups are gathering food but the problem is how to get it through the lines. The ‘humanitarians’ are shot down as soon as they come within range….
Me: Started three days ago! Lordy, bodies must really be hitting the ground . Which reminds me, has anyone thought of securing our food supplies?
Ragnar: How’s that?
Me? Land deliveries can be cut off easily since the Bronx is controlled by the Negroes. So we should secure water routes across the Hudson and East Rivers, barges or something; and also exit routes if needed.
We should block deliveries into the Moslem area to starve them out. Turn off the gas, water and electricity. This could get serious. We should also raid a military base or two, Ragnar, for fire arms, ammo, grenades and grenade launchers and anti-tank devices. Machine guns.
Obama hasn’t called out the army to suppress the Chicago insurrection but he will do it against we Whites so it’s best to best to be prepared.
There’s a bright spot here though– the Stock Market is up a hundred twenty points, we can still pay the rent.
Lessing: How long is that going to last, I wonder.
Me: Quite a while I suspect, Lessing. The Negro concentrations are all in our major cities fairly tightly confined. Of all we useless feeders the Negroes are the most useless of all. There is no economy in those areas to disrupt. So life can function fairly normally outside those areas.
Even during WWII people fought desperately to go on normally. You would think something like publishing would stop but, I more or less collect books published during WWII, publishing went on close to normal. Almost hadn’t skipped a beat as things resumed immediately right after the war.
So, there may not be a serious reduction of means outside the Negro cities.
Lessing: You may be right. I’ll have to consider things in that light.
Me: Accentuate the positive, Lessing, accentuate the positive.
Ange: I had no idea you had such a grim sense of humor, Partly.
Me: You should have been in the orphanage with us Angelina. I had my early training for this there. I’ve been ready for the worst all my life.
Ah well, here we are, Keep your cell phone on Lessing. I’m going to try to set something up for tomorrow.
Drop us off on the way to Lessing’s, Ragnar. We’ll need you tomorrow.
I won’t say Chicago was a surprise. First the collection of the Rebbes and then an insurrection in Chicago. I suppose Obama was surprised at it as we’ve fought back. Well, you know you can only push so hard and then the hot heads take over. We were into it now. Things should really escalate rapidly. I hope we can keep order within our areas here in New York City. We can’t let law deteriorate but from now on it is our law, not Negro law, Shariia or Jewish law, but our law.
Me: Sweetheart, it’s time we put our plan in action.
Ange: I’m ready Dearest Partly.
Me: Alright. Call Adelstein and invite him over to your condo tomorrow night, seven o’ clock. I’ll call Lessing to be present and I think it would be wise to have Ragnar along. I have conditioned your other mind upon the signal to attack Adelstein with all your fury. I have instructed Ange II to desist at a voice command. You, as Ange I, know it too.
I will allow you to punish him as severely as possible but as we need him for our plans you’ll stop short of murder. Besides dead he wouldn’t suffer the humiliation he will have to. The difference between your unearned humiliation and his is that he’ll be conscious of it. So, tomorrow is The Day.
I’m going to go cook something to eat while you call Adelstein.
Our preparations are in place. The morrow will find us waiting for the appearance of Adelstein at Angeline’s.
Lessing, Ragnar and myself waited in the kitchen as the doorbell sounded. This was a big moment for Angeline while curiously it was a big moment for me. As Ange represented my own Anima in Ange’s getting her revenge, through her I was getting a little of mine back too. Along with a very large minority of the country’s population I hated lawyers. I saw them as the very scum of the earth.
I knew the type from high school. Nearly everyone I detested had become a lawyer. Curiously enough the detestation was mutual, they scorned me as I loathed them. Peculiar circumstances from my childhood prevented me from hating anyone but if I had been able to hate I would have hated them heartily.
I was able to avoid contact with lawyers until I got into business in Oregon. When you’re in business you’re a target; it becomes unavoidable that you will become very familiar with lawyers, the extortionate bastards.
It was then when I was drawn into the system that I became aware of what kind of men- and women- lawyers are. I would say a full half of them are full blown psychotics of which Adelstein was a prime example, they and the rest of them look upon law as a racket in which you extort money from simpletons who they make sure have no defense.
If it is thought I think of lawyers as criminals that is correct. They are the third part of the criminal system, sometimes erroneously referred to as the justice system. They are base men and women armed to the teeth. Way off back at the beginning of the nineteenth century, when a group of working men called the IWW, Industrial Workers of the World, nicknamed the Wobblies, were resisting the inhumane working conditions in the woods, logging that is, they naturally clashed with the police and law. The lawyers of Portland Oregon all swore a mighty oath never to give legal assistance to a Wobbly. This was of course in violation of the Constitution of the United States or, in fact, the Law. Nevertheless no Portland lawyer ever defended a Wobbly in Court.
Now, a mid-century counterpart of the Wobblies were the people called Hippies. As latter day Wobblies we were placed outside the law. No hippy was ever given a defense although hypocritical lawyers took the money and then negotiated the lowest sentence the accused would get. This isn’t the place to get into it but let’s just say a lot of people who should have been in jail were immune to charges if you get me.
I had started a record store and I did very well. At that time in the late Sixties marijuana, the chief offender in the popular mind, was spreading into the middle classes. Marijuana and drugs were associated with record stores ipso facto. As a store owner I was also characterized as a drug dealer and much worse. As such I was denied any services such as insurance while I was barely able to get electricity and was able to clear the streets as people moved aside to avoid possible contact.
I survived all efforts to shut me down, was forced to move the store several times as agreements were broken, with no recourse. I was forced to walk a very narrow line as any deviation from the very straightest and narrowest would have landed me in court where lawyers were sworn to not represent me unless to turn the trial into a kangaroo court.
This violated everything about America I had been conditioned to believe. Many ridiculous petty charges were brought against me, some of which no lawyer would handle but some of which landed me in court where I was compelled to pay a lawyer for essentially lynching me. In one case I had merely opened my mouth to protest when the judge looked at me sternly and bawled: One more word out of you and I’ll have you for contempt of court. And he would have too. I had to sit quietly while my fate was pronounced. It only involved a trifling fine in the case but my hatred for lawyers and judges was set in stone. Now, not only would Judge Adelstein pay a big ‘fine’ to Angeline but I was going to get mine back in a big way.
As may be imagined when Lessing, Ragnar and I emerged from the kitchen area into the living room Adelstein was non-plussed. Looking first at Lessing, who he knew very well, then at Ragnar, then at me he exclaimed: ‘You’re the fellow I challenged outside the door a week or so ago. What’s going on here Lessing? What do you have to with him? Who is he?’
Lessing: He’s an acquaintance Merivale. As you know recent political developments have been quite startling. There are racial disturbances all across the country while here in the city racial territories have formed with our Whites staking our claim for mid-island. So far the authorities haven’t understood. They are disputing our claims while Negro and Moslem claims have been accepted.
Our people are being arrested while theirs haven’t. We’re asking you to balance equity. We want our boys released and to remain unmolested. As a believer in fairness and justice may we count on you to act in our interests?
Adelstein: Why those people to whom you refer are White Supremacists. There will never be peace until Whiteness is removed from the face of the earth. Why those White Supremacists are even expelling Jews from mid-city.
Ragnar: They aren’t being expelled; they’re leaving on their own. We don’t have anything to do with it.
Adelstein: Nonsense, there will never be peace until Whiteness is removed from the earth.
Here Ange, Ragnar, Lessing and myself made scoffing noises.
Lessing: I was hoping you wouldn’t force our hand Merivale.
Adelstein: I will absolutely not release any White Supremacists. What do you mean by force my hand?
Seeing the futility of arguing with Adelstein at that point I gave my ear a tug.
It is difficult for me to describe this but Ange caught my signal only from the corner of her eye as she was staring fixedly at Adelstein. It seemed like the air exploded with the fury of her response. I don’t know if I actually was but I felt like I was knocked back on my heels.
Adelstein had no time to anticipate Ange’s assault. She leaped like a tigress with a piercing shriek on him simultaneously raking both sides of his face with her nails from temple to chin while knocking him to the floor. She leaped on his chest in the most undignified manner on her knees pummeling with triple strength at his face. I’m sure his nose went at the first blow.
Hitting and scratching the white carpet began turning red beneath his head as the blood flowed copiously. Damn, I thought, we probably will never get the rug clean, have to buy a new carpet.
Just then Adelstein shrieked: My eye, my eye. Ange had only caught him by the corner so no real damage but as his nose was wobbling right left and back again I thought it best to call Ange off before she killed the bastard. Not that I objected but dead he would be no use to us while a murder trial might make us look bad.
‘Enough’ Ange’ I cried hoping she would remember to respond to my voice command while I was trying to maneuver to where she could see me tugging at my left ear. Fortunately she responded to voice command backing away spitting and snarling, shouting epithets at the bastard. She was terrific; how I loved her.
Having been abused by Adelstein and his band since she was twenty-five you may be sure she had pent up resentments probably conscious in both identities. How I admired her but how ashamed I was that I had to make her appear so unladylike. Still for her mental comfort she needed that revenge.
Merivale was rolling around on the floor screaming ‘My eye, my eye’ when there was really nothing very much wrong with it, just a small tear at the corner of the lid. He should have been shouting my nose, my nose; he was going to have a hell of a time explaining those shiners.
I asked Ragnar to set him on his feet so we could get on with it. Ragnar grabbed him at the shirt front and like a feather pulled him up and stood him on his brogans. Boy, I hated those shoes. What evil memories of guys walking around in those shoes I had from my young manhood. I’d always been the loafer type.
Me: Calm down, calm down Adelstein, it’s not that bad and we have business to discuss
Adelstein: (ignoring or not hearing me) What the fuck’s the matter with you bitch?
Me: Now, now Adelstein I can’t tolerate being called a bitch.
Adelstein: Not you ass, her.
In her own persona, the violence of her acts must have melded both personas. Ange actually spit in his face calling him a eunuch and bastard. Eunuch? Hmm, well maybe that was the ultimate insult in Ange’s situation. I hate spitting and I really hate to see women spit especially Ange as she was such an integral part of me. It was as though I spit.
Between the two then the air resonated lightning with seeming thunder rolls for several minutes. I became aware of myself breathing hard when Lessing made a pass with his hand in the air between Ange and Merivale that seemed to calm the storm. Until as coming from afar could be heard his voice soothing: ‘Calm down, Merivale, calm down. We have to explain our terms to you. Listen, listen.’
I had to laugh to myself when he told Adelstein to calm down while Ange was still fuming at him, making threatening moves at him even in her own persona. I moved over, put my arms around her and tried to comfort her. A little petting and she sank into my arms against me suddenly exhausted, relieved, but exhausted.
I suppose Adelstein must have been almost in shock as he was bleeding from deep scratches all over his face. Ragnar grabbed a roll of toilet paper and threw it to him. The paper brought him around some as he dabbed his face wincing as he brushed his nose. I don’t know how much pleasure Ange got from his agony oh, but it did my heart good as I silently laughed deep within my breast.
Agonized needless to say Adelstein dabbed until recovering his wits sufficiently he turned his face toward Lessing and asked: ‘What the fuck arrangements are you talking about Farquhar?’ This was my cue.
Me: We want your cooperation and assistance Judge in the freeing of any of our men arrested at the first hearing and your cooperation in preventing charges from being brought.
Adelstein: Never. Those men you refer to are White Supremacists and deserve the worst they can get. White Supremacism has to be wiped out.
Lessing: Take a moment Merivale. Take a moment and think. The list of charges that can be brought against your firm, your colleagues and yourself will likely fill pages. These women have been treated criminally; they were essentially slaves without a will of their own. They couldn’t say no. As you know Merivale the prejudice of the Court is always in the woman’s favor; you don’t have a chance.
From the moment of filing charges, that I have already written up, the reputation of you and your firm will be destroyed. You personally will be thrown out of your clubs. Restaurants will refuse to serve you. You’ll never eat lunch in this town again. The charges are heavy charges in multiple counts. White slavery charges alone could get net you two or three life sentences. I could list more but do you really want to risk the penalties by refusing our very reasonable requests.
Adelstein was still dabbing at his bloody face while in real agony over his nose and eye. Now Lessing threw real fear into him; we had irrefutable evidence, damning evidence. We waited patiently as Adelstein dabbed.
Adelstein: Alright. I’ll apply whatever influence I can.
Me: Not good enough we don’t want you to apply pressure, we want results now.
Adelstein: I’m only a judge, Federal not State or City. I have jurisdictional limits.
Lessing: Stop it, Merivale. You know your influence is distributed throughout the system. Your word alone can advance or stop any career. Perry is right. Either you do it or we file. I already have the papers drawn up. We have pages and pages of offenses; don’t be a fool Merivale. You’ve a wife and kids.
Adelstein: I never thought you…oh, alright I’ll issue instructions not to book your people too.
Me: Today. We want our men out.
Adelstein: My G-d man, can’t you see I’m in agony. For G-d’s sake get me to a hospital.
Ange: Your god doesn’t exist. No, you bastard. You get your own self to the hospital. Suffer, suffer, suffer. I hate you, you bastard. I hate every time you touched me. I hat the very sight of you. Get out of my condo! Now!
Adelstein was suffering but I couldn’t feel sorry for him. I was almost sorry I called Angeline off but I couldn’t let her kill him. He staggered out the door.
Ragnar: Nice work, Miss Gower. Do you think he will get our boys out Mr. Farquhar?
Lessing: Yes I do. He’ll have to have his injuries doctored today but I’ll call him in the morning to prompt him. You can tell your men they’re safe from the Courts; I won’t call it the law. We’re into this new phase of warfare where words are being redefined.
Me: I have an appointment at James Carter in a couple days so I should have an account from Goldbladder.
There should be a renewed attempt to penetrate our ranks Ragnar. Keep a sharp lookout. Adelstein may have to comply but he won’t take this lying down. They’re wily fellows; remember the Amalekites.
All three: Remember the Amalekites? What’s that supposed to mean?
Me: Oh, when the Hebrews were on their way to the Promised Land from Egypt they asked the Amalekites for permission to cross their territory rather than take the long way around. The Amalekites refused. The Hebrews took the refusal as an injury and didn’t forget so decades later after they had consolidated their power they returned to exterminate the Amalekites root and branch as the Bible tells it.
Today was a declaration of war between the Jews and us. They will come at us any way they can, they won’t let up, they won’t forget. It will be and already is a war of extermination; I don’t know how long things will take to develop but don’t forget the Amalekites.
Ange: You know this and you’re still going to James Carter?
Me: They won’t do anything direct at this time Ange. They’ll want to shift the guilt to us. Meanwhile hopefully we’ll get more info from them than they get from me. Abe and I are almost buddies anyway.
Ragnar: I don’t think so.
Me: That was joke, Ragnar, that was a joke. Don’t be so literal.
Ange and I were talking over soup and a glass of white wine, a Riesling.
Me: Well, Ange, you have had your revenge, how was it?
Ange: Good but not as good as I expected but now I’m having hallucinations.
Me: Yes. What kind.
Ange: It’s like I can see over a wall or maybe through those glass blocks. Terrifying visions. I’m afraid.
Me: Don’t be afraid; you can’t be hurt. I’ve been trying to break down the division between your two identities and unify them into one so that you have your whole life and no dark spaces. Maybe your encounter with Adelstein opened the way a little. Don’t fight it but let the barriers fall. The first rush may overwhelm your senses but just remember they are only memories.
Ange: Oh, but, Partly, what must you think of me? I’m afraid you won’t love me anymore.
Me: Of course I’ll always love you Ange, you are half of me. Hera will welcome you as redeemed; you are her cherished daughter. As her priest I rejoice in your recovery.
You must understand Ange that you are innocent of any guilt and as such you need have no shame although possibly regrets. And I am here to truly love you.
I am familiar with your situation myself. It has taken me decades Ange to realize I was under a post hypnotic suggestion, a hypnotic spell from the second grade to perhaps seventy years of age although to a weakening degree. The reasons for my behavior have only been known to me for a few years. It was only when I came to understand hypnosis and hypnotic suggestion that I understood.
In kindergarten, 1943, some Negro kids were let in school to the great resentment of parents and hence their kids. On the first day, at recess, they were told to sit on the sandbox and not move. I was already an outcast because of things that happened in my neighborhood so I objected to their treatment and offered to help them fight for their rights. They refused and that left me hanging out. It was late in the year so I was told that they would get me next year.
They had to wait for the second grade as I was transferred to a different school in the first grade. At recess they were waiting for me. About twelve boys and girls of the elite formed a semi-circle around me and glared hatred at me while Morford berated me on my sin. Then I was told to stand on one foot for the duration of recess which I did. Then I was told to put my foot down and that I was their nigger now.
In a state of terror with all defenses down I was actually hypnotized although they may or may not have been aware of it, their parents that is, and the post-hypnotic suggestion that I was their nigger mirroring the Negro kids sitting on the sand box, was implanted so that in similar situations I had no resistance and did what nearly anyone told me to do mirroring standing on one foot.
This went on all my life even after integrating my personality at forty-two until I could recognize and reject my post-hypnotic suggestion in my early seventies. So, Honey, I understand completely. My Anima was destroyed at that time also but now that I have found you, I’m complete. You are me; I am you. I rejoice that you’re recovering.
But now you must be especially wary. When Adelstein recovers he will come to avenge your assault. His kind never acknowledge their crimes but only resent the revenges. So tomorrow night I have to attend the New Serapions and under no circumstances are you to answer the door. If the fire alarm goes off ignore it there will be no fire. I will call a couple times to reassure you and will call from the lobby on the way up. Is that clear?
Ange: Yes, darling Partly. I won’t open the door no matter what. I will call you if anything happens.
Me: Exactly, Ange, my darling girl.
And so, here I am sitting in Lessing’s living room.
Clip 10 follows
April 22, 2016
The Vampyres Of New York
Vol.1, Clip 7
Expecting Lessing to get busy organizing legal defenses I more confidently approached Ragnar. As he would be on the line, that is more open to suspicion, I decided to drive over to Newport to view the site of the famous Folk Festival. Newport was a big event in younger days, the site where Dylan went electric shocking the Village folk crowd.
A few years back in twenty-fifteen or so a lot of video stuff was released covering those several years along with a bunch of CDs of Dylan’s nightclub appearances, Carnegie Hall and things. What shows up visually and aurally is quite different from the written accounts. Anyway I wanted to walk over the grounds.
Clearly we were being tailed so we took a couple of evasive measures just to let them know we knew they were there and then I forgot about them. There was a nice breeze in from the sea so Ragnar and I walked into it; I hoped the wind might muffle any microphones directed at us and at any rate they would be directed at our backs.
Me: So, Ragnar, I had a talk with Lessing. He definitely wants to do something to address the racial imbalance. He’s actively working to organize some lawyers and judges who sympathize with our plight. They intend to protect any Whites arrested as ‘domestic terrorists’ or whatever; either get the cases dismissed outright or delay them or if possible have them fall through the cracks as they say.
Ragnar: That’s interesting. So?
Me: Well, maybe I’m wrong Ragnar, but I have the feeling that your gym group might be grumpy about the race war and the lack of affirmative action against it.
Ragnar: We’re not happy with what’s going on, that’s for sure.
Me: Yeah. This might be the right time to get something going.
Ragnar: Like what?
Me: Oh, you know, securing the streets so they’re safe for wife and family. A little neighborhood ethnic cleansing to clear out unwanted elements and replace them with suitable people for instance. Kind of a White no-go area to match that of Harlem and the Moslems surrounding Wall Street, for instance.
Ragnar: You know how far that would get.
Me: That’s what I’m saying Ragnar. No charges would be filed or if they were they would be nullified by legal procedures. A certain care would have to be taken but action could be pretty well denied. Intimidation rather than actual violence just as with the Mexicans, Syrians and Negroes. We all know who to get rid of unwanted Whites, don’t we?
Ragnar: Farquhar would cover our backs?
Me: That’s what I’m saying. And if any of you know policeman, which I’m sure you do, they can take their time arriving, if they leave the station. They know how to obfuscate procedures. I’m sure they would appreciate safe neighborhoods for their families, cleansed schools without racial terrorism.
You’re all body builders so put on a scowl and terrify intruders into cleansed neighborhoods. Levey donations on business owners who will no longer be bothered by roving groups of thieves. They’re all losing ten or fifteen percent minimum to those guys and maybe paying protection. Guarantee them no shop lifting, no gay activists and it should be worth a few hundred dollars a month plus the ability to relax a little. Chat them up, see what racial discord is costing them and strike a deal. That way you’ll cover your expenses with a little over.
As front line freedom fighters that would be only fair. Talk to your buddies Ragnar. See where they stand. Let me know and we’ll get some effective offensive moves going. Reclaim the streets and then move on from there.
Ragnar: You’re sure Farquhar will perform?’
Me. Well, Ragnar, your gym is public, why don’t Lessing and I come down on some Saturday and chat while you’re pumping iron. You have ten pound weights for the amateurs don’t you?
Ragnar: Ten pound weights? Yeah, for the kids. OK, great. You two are the leaders?
Me: No, Ragnar. We’re both down the list a ways. We’re just organizers. The big guys prefer to be incognito.
That was a little white lie but I and I’m sure Lessing wanted to stay in the background as far as possible. It would be best to organize on standard conspiratorial lines.
I relaxed on the drive back to Manhattan but my brain was working. Little did I suspect but the next day would be a life enhancing experience. Nordstrom’s Department Store was beginning its grand opening for its first Manhattan store so I decided to go up and see how things were working out. Nordstrom’s was a Northwest chain that began in Seattle so I thought I’d see if they could handle the Big Bagel.
The outside of the store was magnificent while crowds of people pressed through the banks of doors. It seemed likely that more people would want in than the store could handle. Amazingly the limousine seemed to announce that an important personage was within so that when I stepped out the crowd parted to let me in. Smiling benignly left and right I strode to the doors as though by divine right. Once inside though I became common place jostling and forcing my way through the crowd.
It may not be true but it seemed like the retail store was the church of the age. While people seemed to be buying, for myself, I couldn’t see how they could examine the merchandise so quickly. Pushed hither and thither I was scarcely aware of what department I was in. And then…I saw her standing there. She was tall and willowy, probably seventy years of age, right for me and deep chested, always a top criterion.
Her head was lowered as though her gaze was fixed steadfastly on something on the floor. She seemed oblivious to all around her, one could almost mistake her for a manikin. Then it occurred to me that she was catatonic, devoid of volition. She was mine for the taking.
I walked over, slipped my arm around her waist and said: Come Darling, you are found. She was lost inside but made no resistance as I applied a slight pressure allowing me to guide her through the crowd. Ragnar concealed his surprise at my appearance with her but leading us to the Limo, I put the woman inside following her.
I studied her intently as Ragnar threaded through the dense traffic. I thought I recognized her problem. When I was in the Orphanage I had withdrawn into myself at one point. Unable to resist or change the intolerable conditions I was facing I shrunk down against the wall of the dormitory withdrawing inside my mind with no intent of ever coming out.
The house mother pleaded with me and I heard her but gave no outward indication of hearing. I don’t know exactly what caused me to relinquish my attitude, perhaps the thought of being transferred to another institution and that might clearly be worse than the one I was in. At any rate I came out and resumed my life.
I thought that probably was the woman’s situation. Something about the Nordstrom situation catalyzed past influences in her life causing her to give up. I thought possibly I could bring her back especially as I knew she could hear me. I had a plan I had been nursing for a long time; this would be a good time to try it. It was a dream come true.
I knew what she represented to me. She was the living image of the Anima I desired. Recent developments had left me Anima voided causing me psychological discomfort. Now I had found her, she who I needed, she was mine and I was determined she wouldn’t get away. I watched her quietly working out my method. I believed I had to be successful within three days or she would probably be beyond reach forever. And then what could I do with her.
I escorted her past Ottmar and into the elevator. She wasn’t difficult to steer but she stopped in her tracks when the forward pressure was removed. Thus she stopped in her tracks without lifting her her gaze from the floor as I worked through the first set of keys. Opening the entry door I moved her into the little vestibule while I manipulated the keys for the inner door.
That done I moved her into the living room and left her staring out toward the Staten Island view. Coming back, I placed a chair behind her and invited her to sit down. I knew she could hear but she was incapable of responding so I backed her into the chair, took her purse from her and seated myself on the couch facing her.
I wasn’t clear what to do next. Finally I said: Darling, you were lost but now you are found. I have rescued you. As I expected, this elicited no response. As it was now well after lunch I decided she needed a bite of something. As loving care might be as useful as anything else I led her into the dining room telling her I was going to make her some soup. Sitting her down I had no qualms about leaving her as I knew she was incapable of moving. Cooking up some Cream of Squash which was a nice bland soup I next faced the dilemma of how to get her to ingest it as she refused to or was unable to grasp the spoon.
Filling the spoon halfway I pried her lips open and slipped the spoon into her mouth tipping her head back so that she involuntarily swallowed as she was apparently hungry. As I fed her I began to speak soothingly to her using ideas I had developed earlier. I still had no idea of who she was but…
Me: Al right, Darling Girl, I think I know what the matter is and I was sent to rescue you. The great goddess Hera saw that you were in danger. She sent me to save you before the authorities picked you up and took you to Bellevue. Once in there the gods only know what would have happened to you. They would have injected you with horrible drugs or even subjected you to electro-shock therapy. You would have been destroyed. Once you’re in the hands of the authorities you’re lost but you were fortunate that Hera was watching over you and I found you.
I am a priest of the cult of Hera. My name is Partly Wright. Hera has invested me with the power to restore you to health. I love you and you’re safe in good hands but you will have to follow the cleansing and purification ritual. In your condition it may take three days but perhaps less depending on how injured your mind is.
As I hope you know, but if you don’t I’ll tell you: Hera is the goddess who protects and aids women. She has a long history. Her home was in the Greek city of Argos. For a great period she reigned there with her consort Heracles, this was in the days before the Patriarchy. In her period, the Matriarchy, she reigned with her consort Heracles. Their relationship was known as the marriage between the Sun, Heracles and the Moon, She. Her name meant She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. In point of fact I was deputized by that earlier Sun God Heracles as male administering to Hera’s daughters of which you are one.
When the Great Cataclysm came, the arrival of the Patriarchy, the ancient harmony was shattered. Unable to resist the warriors of the Patriarchy Hera lost her place and freedom becoming subordinated to the Patriarchic great god Zeus. You may be sure she made a troublesome wife for him.
Heracles was torn from her side and cast down from the abode of the gods to become a mere human while others squabbled for his place as avatar of the Sun. He was subordinated to the role of a mere human while being given onerous tasks that were thought impossible to achieve in the hopes of dishonoring him forever. Heracles with the covert aid of his former wife was made of sterner stuff fulfilling all the tasks.
To make the story shorter after a lifetime of trials and tribulations he died but with an enormous reputation that had to be taken into account. More from shame and embarrassment than from desire Heracles Patriarchic gods made him a demi-god and gave him the role of doorman for the godly abode of Olympus. But, let the dead past bury its dead. For you and me here that has no effect, but you should know.
I will now give you a small glass of wine as a symbol of the power of the Sun and then we will begin the cleansing and purifying lustration.
I looked for any signs of recognition concerning my account but could notice only a slight relaxing in the tension she was under. I deemed that a positive sign indicating that with care she could be reached and rescued.
I thought her problem was obvious. As she appeared to be about seventy when the mind begins to go through changes becoming a little less elastic that her defenses against all the abuses we endure got in the way and she failed to make a small transition at which time she sank into a serious depression which is what this catalepsy is, at least mine was. Somehow the joyous ecstatic atmosphere at Nordstrom’s opening contrasted too strongly perhaps with her growing depression and she sank into catalepsy on the spot. This was serious but early enough so that I was positive she could be saved. I would have to be at a peak of form I have never attained before however.
I gave her a couple sips of the wine, a mere sip actually given more as a form of ritual, a suggestion, to hopefully gain her confidence. Then I raised her from the chair leading her to the shower in the bathroom. In the modern taste the bathroom was a little temple in green marble perhaps three hundred square feet. Why the modern mind has made so much of the bathroom is unclear to me. Along the way I began to explain to her the necessary legend or myth of Hera that gave the lustration sense.
‘Listen carefully, Darling Girl, for this is how you will be saved. In those days our patroness Lady, Hera, was as well as the protector of women the goddess of life, as you may know. This was represented by the annual cycle of birth in Spring and the death of vegetation in Fall. Of course, the earth is revived by the rains bursting forth once more in the virgin Spring. This is symbolized in Astrology when Ganymede as Aquarius pours forth the water from his urn on Hera characterized as Virgo the Virgin.
In another telling the great goddess Hera every Spring bathed in the waters of the spring of Kanathos thus restoring her virginity. We are now going to replicate that ritual using the water of this shower. Water, as is well known, is a purifying agent. Thus as a priest of Hera I through She will restore you to a state as of virginity.’
While speaking I had been disrobing the woman to reveal a gorgeous well formed figure with stunning breasts. The ravages of time could not be fully resisted but she was a perfect example of what a woman of seventy should be. I adjusted the shower just above warm verging into hot then, as the woman still had no volition I had to lift her legs over the lip of the shower. It may have been my imagination but I thought she responded to the water.
Taking the bar of Creed soap, Creed is among the finest made and my favorite, I began to lave her neck, massaging carefully, moving down her body at the same time intoning: By the power invested in me by Our Lady Hera the crimes, indignities, insults and injuries this lovely woman has endured in life are washed away. Any guilt she mistakenly carries is cleansed from her soul, mind and body. She is returned to her original virginal state.’
As my hands caressed her lovely curves I thought I felt a relaxation of the muscle tension. As she had not yet raised her head I ventured further telling her that she could see the soiling made from her body go down the drain, a pale grey color. Her eyes did seem to focus.
Then lifting her head, I concentrated my gaze into her lovely golden eyes, a golden green, to see that they were clear exhibiting no trace, as far as I could see, of her temporary insanity. Using my soaped finger I caressed her cheeks washing away the makeup, although expertly applied, to reveal a clear vibrant complexion. She had apparently, curiously, avoided the sun as there was little damage to her face and her exquisite body.
Amazingly there was little wrinkling other than the slight sagging of her cheeks from the pull of gravity. Her mouth was neither small nor large, although for my tastes it could have been a little larger, while her lips retained almost youthful form while beginning to narrow.
Having completed the conjurations and lustration I led her from the shower as she still lacked volition, to carefully pat her down with a snow white towel.
That completed I led her back to the bedroom. I put her in the shirt I had worn the day before then lay her down on the bed. Speaking softly I said: Darling Girl you will now sleep a deep and dreamless sleep until the morning sun comes up. Your sleep will be dreamless but your unconscious mind will absorb the ritual of Hera you have just performed while your mind will repair and reorder any injuries you may have received leading to your catalepsy.
You will wake refreshed and be able to resume your active life. Now, close your eyes Darling Girl and sleep. Sleep the all healing sleep.’
At this point she visibly relaxed with closing eyes, ‘Sleep , Darling Child of Hera, sleep.
As she appeared to be asleep I closed the door leaving it slightly open. I then went to get her purse to see who I was dealing with.
Being a New Yorker she had no driver’s license but she did have a medical insurance card. You can imagine how stunned I was to learn her name was Angeline Gower. I had once been rescued by a woman named Angeline Gower. After high school when I was in emotional shell shock from my rotten childhood I took to the highway ending up in the Grand Traverse where I blanked out in a coffee shop only to return to consciousness ten days later in Angeline’s magnificent bed in a shack out in the woods. Angeline was almost in the condition I was from an equally rotten childhood still she managed to nurse me to health and save my life. I’ll add to the details when Ange (short for Angeline) wakes up tomorrow.
So, she was Angeline Gower II whose life I was now saving. She wasn’t broke, her billfold contained six hundred fifty-two dollars with a checking account balance of near one hundred thousand dollars so it wasn’t ticket price shock at Nordstrom’s that put her into catatonic shock.
Looking further I found a Bar Association card so she either was or had been a lawyer. From that I deduced her catatonia was sexually related probably from a too casual attitude from her fellow lawyers or perhaps worse. After all, the sixties, seventies and eighties had been very degrading for women, not that they didn’t embrace the period calling it freedom. She must have numerous stories of legal sexual misconduct. I could have obtained a force with which to control lawyers and judges in Angeline. She must know dozens of women in her situation and they would know hundreds of lawyers and judges.
Otherwise her bag was an eight thousand dollar Chanel with all accoutrements equally expensive. Heck, the crappy short haircut probably cost five hundred a session not to mention the makeup brands most of which I had never heard of and I follow the fashion magazines.
Alright. I would have to see if she was with the living on the morrow or still one of the walking dead. It was getting late and I hadn’t eaten so I made up a pastrami, corned beef and ham sandwich, emptied out a can of Campbell’s Chunky Potato and Bacon soup that I ate at a leisured pace. I had come across a nice Chateau Ste. Madeline, Cassis appellation, that proved a pleasant complement to my, well, repast.
Angeline seemed to sleeping peacefully or perhaps she was comatose. Anyway, I crawled in beside her, overwhelmed by her beauty. Don’t get any idea I took advantage of her because I intended her for my Anima and to violate my Anima would be to violate myself. I’m no masochist. I did however fold the cover back to gaze for a few moments at her magnificent breasts and wild strawberries. I’m only human as the weasels say.
True to my suggestion her eyes opened with the sunrise but she didn’t seem to be aware so I got up to make some poached eggs and toast to supplement my meager takings of last night.
I had just sat down at table when I looked up to see Ange standing there in the nude. It was going to be a good breakfast. She stood there with one hand on her hip the other extended above her leaning on the door jamb, or arch way rather. My eggs tasted great. A slight smile appeared on her lips as she studied me attentively.
Then she said: May I have some eggs too?
Nice voice, lovely voice, cultivated but not ostentatiously so, no Eleanor Roosevelt.
‘Sure Angeline, sit down. How many would you like, two or three?’
‘Three.’ She sighed languorously.
‘I’ll be three minutes, the water’s already boiled.’
‘Thank-you. Is your name really Partly Wright?’
‘You think that’s funny, Ange? Yes it is. Mother had a sense of humor as I never tire of saying. You’ve been going through my pockets?
‘I took that liberty.’
‘Yes, well, and is your name really Angeline Gower?’
‘What’s funny about that?’
‘Nothing, only a while back, a long time now I knew an Angeline Gower up in the Grand Traverse.’
‘Grand Traverse, Michigan?’ Angeline said freezing in her tracks as I had on looking at her medical card.
‘Um hm, yes, many years ago, back in nineteen fifty six but you can’t be her, she was several years older than me so you’d have to closing in on ninety.’
Ange: My mother was in Grand Traverse, working at a restaurant at that time. She used to tell me of an ungrateful boy she rescued at that time but his name wasn’t Partly Wright.’
Me: ‘No. I was in my Dewey Trueman phase at that time.’
Ange: ‘That’s the name! You’re Dewey Trueman?’
Me: ‘No. I’m Partly Wright. Dewey Trueman died on the Grand Traverse.’
Ange: ‘Mother used to say that she woke up one morning and you, or this Dewey Trueman, was gone.’
Me: ‘Yes, that’s true. But that Angeline Gower didn’t have a daughter and she wouldn’t have been your age, Ange.’
Ange: ‘She never mentioned me to you.’
Me: No. She never talked about her past life at all and I really wasn’t in any kind of mental condition to be overly curious.’
Ange: ‘Hmm. Mother was in pain herself when you knew her. I’ll tell you her story if you like.’
I signified yes but I was getting very uncomfortable myself feeling like I would go into shock. It was déjà vu flickering past like film frames in very slow motion, I thought I might lose it. Suddenly I could pick my old Angeline’s features in my new Angeline’s face. Synchronicity bulbs kept flashing in my mind mentally blinding me. I put my head down dug into my eggs. Ange said nothing watching me, when I put my head up I had tears in my eyes that I couldn’t conceal. I guess that softened my new Angeline.
But Ange had brought up the memories of my old Angeline for which I had always harbored guilt. As had happened to me before while writing old memories had called up only what I can call a mental rash that is so overwhelming I had to take to bed, so now this rash arose and I had to go to bed until it passed which if the past was any guide might be one or two days. I explained my situation to Ange that only caused her to giggle as she followed me into the bedroom seizing my hand on the way.
Removing my clothes I crawled into bed. Ange watched me giggling away then after I got into bed hopping up on it sitting on her heels still coyly giggling. But it wasn’t the giggling of a grown woman but more of a ten or eleven year old girl. Then I realized that she hadn’t fully recovered but though retaining her mental attributes of her age she had slipped into the emotional state of a child, as I was to learn, before she had surrendered her virginity, that had happened as I was to learn when she was sixteen.
Apparently in my cleansing ritual of the previous evening when I returned her to a mental virginity she had interpreted it as one level of consciousness literally; thus she was of two minds. Now she set about to seduce me as an eleven year old would do but her mind was shadowed by her current age and experience.
I was reluctant to engage as I wasn’t sure Ange was competent, on the other hand I couldn’t refuse without fear of offending her and perhaps losing her. After all I had joined her in marriage as the Sun and Moon. I don’t live in quandaries so we consummated our marriage. The combination of an eleven year old and post-menopause woman was a strange experience that I will never forget or regret.
At any rate we were now one. And then a strange thing happened. Relaxing in the glow Ange suddenly said to me in a sort of eleven year old baby talk: you remember you said your goddess had sent you to cherish and protect me?
Now I was frightened; what was coming next?
‘I want you to revenge me on a man who hurt me.’
Ooh, what had I gotten myself into: Yes, Angeline, who is he and what did he do?
‘He’s Judge Merivale Adelstein and he raped me more than once.’
‘What kind of judge, Ange?’
‘He’s a federal judge and he’s a horrible man. He treats us women like we are his sex slaves. He has to be punished.’
I quickly agreed, I even had formulated a plan in an instant. Angeline had said ‘us girls’, that meant several and if he used his position to compel sexual favors he was in very deep doo-doo, no statute of limitations, instant destruction. And if he was doing it very likely other judges were while it might be possible to uncover a system of abuse among the legal firms. Depending on things this knowledge could give us, the Serapion Order, nearly complete control over the legal establishment.
‘You said ‘us girls’ Angeline. Do you know the names of the other women?’
‘Of course, we used to get together and compare notes. What are you going to do to him, walk up and punch him in the nose?’
‘First I have to find out who he is but then I’m not sure punching him in the nose is a suitable punishment, he merits more than that.’
‘I’ll say he does. What are you going to do?’
‘Well, I won’t be doing anything in the next couple of days Ange but I might be able to get him by the short hairs within a week to ten days.’
‘Pooh, short hairs, how’s that going to hurt him?’
‘Short hairs is just a saying Ange, meaning causing him great pain as in saying ‘cut him a new asshole.’
‘Oh, I don’t know that one either.’
‘I’m surprised, but, Ange, can you draw me up a list of these other women, addresses and phone numbers if possible.?
‘I thought you said you loved me, that I was your Anima.’
‘Nothing has changed Cara Mia. I’m not going to make passes at them. Lessing and I have an operation going and this information clinches it for us.’
‘Lessing? Lessing who?’
It occurred to me then that as both Ange and Lessing were lawyers she might know him. ‘Lessing Farquhar. Miles and Lady’s friend.’
‘Lessing Farquhar is a lawyer. How do you know him? And Lady and Miles sound like the Carmichaels.’
I forgot I had never mentioned the Carmichaels. ‘Lessing is a friend of Lady and Miles, so I met him through them.’
‘How do you know the Carmichaels?’
‘I guess I haven’t had time to tell you. This is the Carmichael’s condo. I’m house sitting for them while they’re in Europe for a year. Ange, now you’re a lawyer so you don’t betray confidences do you?’
‘No. You aren’t in trouble are you, Partly?’
‘No, no, no, no. Lessing and I belong to an Order. The New Serapion Order. We’re a kind of a revolutionary group. You’re not an Obamite are you?’
‘I’m whatever you are Partly. I am your woman, you can’t get away.’
‘Oh good, that’s the way I feel about you too Ange. So, anyway your revenge on Judge Adelstein will come through his subordination to our uses. If you were his sex slave he’s now going to be your slave. He will jump when you say jump. He’s the guy that’s angling for the Supreme Court isn’t he? You must be aware of dirty work he’s involved in. Probably bought stock using insider information? The guy’s walking on gilded splinters.’
‘Oh sure, that’s the least of it.’
Me: ‘Great. Listen Ange I want you to get some rest. You’re still a little wired from your catatonia. And tomorrow I want you to draw up the list. We have to move fast. Helzapoppin’, as they say.’
‘You rest. I’m going to go up to your place and pack some clothes for you, get your makeup. Is there anything else you need Darling.’
Ange: ‘I’m happy here with you Partly, I don’t need any clothes. I don’t want to leave.’
Me: ‘I know Darling Girl. I’d like this to go on forever too but reality will intrude soon enough. We may have to go out together, clothes will be more important then. I won’t be gone very long. Just long enough to get some things for you. I never have anyone come up here, there will be no deliveries, no reason for anyone to come up so, in on the off chance someone knocks, don’t even get up. You’ve got a phone, my number is at the top so if you feel any anxiety, call. This won’t take long. Fifty-Sixth Street is your address, right? OK Honey, rest for a while, let your mind heal.’
Ragnar had the limo ready. Not too many minutes later I was in front of Angeline’s building.
‘Come on up Ragnar. I’m sure I’ll need help carrying.’
Angeline was only on the eighth floor. Ange only had double locks, thank goodness, and only one door. The condo was surprisingly large, tastefully if sparsely decorated. Showed a clear mind or a capable decorator. There was a feeling of longing about the place, a picture with a far away horizon over the couch.
‘Better take her computer down Ragnar, that will probably be needed.’
Bagging her makeup wasn’t a problem, at least I didn’t think it was but stuffing a couple suitcases with clothes was more difficult than I thought. I didn’t know anything about mixing and matching and those feminine things. I made sure she had enough underwear then stuffed a bunch of skirts, slacks, blouses and sweaters into the suitcase thinking Ange was right, I was out of my depth.
I snapped the suitcases shut as Ragnar returned. He took one and I took the other. As I was locking up one of those booming voices of authority growled: Who the hell are you?
I turned to see a vision from my childhood. A hated one. The fellow wasn’t big, only about five-five but he stood tall, occupying his space securely. He looked like one of these world war posters where Uncle Sam is rolling up his sleeves for a fight. He had on a pair of those massive wing tips that look like you’re trying to leave a big foot print. New too, minimal creases. The guy probably threw them away before they looked even a little worn. The green plaid sport coat over a pair of black pants was atypical. Hadn’t seen that one before. I didn’t know his name but then he didn’t need one. As I said: I knew the type.
He glared at me too proud in his inner powers to ask me twice.
I had to choose the right personality to gain the upper hand. I chose to be confident, cool and distant, a quieter tough: ‘What business is it of yours? Who are you?
‘Don’t get wise with me.”
‘I think you’re talking to the wrong man Friend. Move aside.’
‘This isn’t your apartment; I know the woman who lives here.’
I looked at his face more closely. He was Jewish. Then it hit me. This was Judge Marivale Adelstein.
‘So do I. Come on, let’s go Ragnar.’
‘Ragnar? Lady Carmichael’s chauffer?’
Good god, he knew the Carmichaels. Christ. I was going to have to talk to him. Ragnar looked my way for directions.
‘Yes it is, Judge Adelstein. Hello, I’m Partly Wright. I’m house sitting for the Carmichaels. Nice to have met you. We have to go now. I’ll talk to you later.’
While he stood staggered that I knew his name Ragnar and I walked away quickly. Behind me I could her him snort: Which part? I really hate that stale joke.
I dragged the suitcases into the apartment. I looked up to see Angeline, back to me, looking over her shoulder smiling. She wasn’t nude anymore, she had put on a pair of Lady’s four inch spikes. Not unattractive but disconcerting.
‘I got up to look out the window.’
‘Oh. You’ll never guess who I met at your apartment Angeline.’
I was wrong on that one. ‘My, you’re prescient. How’d you get it first try?’
‘He always comes over and bugs me about this time. I don’t know how to dump the guy. I’ve insulted him, called him names, the guy’s impervious.’
‘It will work this time. Nice shoes. Shall we have a glass of wine my lovely?,
‘OK. I’ll get it.’
I sat down on the divan, accepted the glass of wine Ange offered and sat back as she cuddled up close to me. I almost fainted.
‘You know what I can’t understand Partly dear?’
‘How you got here?’
‘No. Second chance. You keep saying that I’m your Anima. I don’t know what that means. Is that like sweetheart or something?’
‘Oh, no, Ange. It’s much more intimate than that. Have you read any psychology? Freud or Jung?’
‘Not much psychology and I’ve heard the names but I don’t know much about them.’
‘OK. I’m sure you’ve heard chat about a man’s feminine side?’
‘You’re not bi-sexual Partly? I couldn’t stand that.’
‘No, not at all, wholly male. The way you’ve heard it is a misunderstanding of the right side of the brain. A man’s feminine side as I understand it is the right side of his brain that carries the Anima. It comes from the ovum, a man’s X chromosome. The left side come from his y chromosome. A woman has two X chromosomes so she doesn’t have a masculine side, just what Freud in his crude way called penis envy, in other words, a longing for what is missing, that is, the y chromosome’
‘Well, I do understand penis envy.’
‘Sure, Well Gloria Steinem was wrong when she said a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. She was way out of her depth; a woman needs a man like a fish needs water is more correct. Gloria almost made a Freudian slip.’
‘Ooh, that’s good. I understand that now that I’ve found you, Partly.’
Flattered? Wow! I didn’t know who was writing this script but I was sure glad I was the star of the movie.
Me: ‘Steinem’s remark reminds me of the old poem called Evolution by Langdon Smith. It begins:
When you were a tadpole
And I was a fish
And side by side on the ebbing tide
We sprawled through the ooze and slime,
Or skittered with many a caudal flip
Through the depths of the Cambrian fen,
My heart was rife with the joy of life
For I loved you even then.
After a few eons and transmogrifications the pair are sitting in New York at Delmonico’s, more or less like here Ange, high above the vulgar streets of New York. The poem goes on:
…here tonight in the mellow light
We sit at Delmonico’s
Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,
Your hair is dark as jet,
Your years are few, your life is new,
Your soul untried and yet,
God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds
And furnished them wings to fly;
He sowed our spawn in the world’s dim dawn;
And I know that I shall not die,
Though cities have sprung above the graves
Where the crook-bone men make war
And the oxwain creaks over the buried caves
Where the mummied mammoths are.
Thus we linger at luncheon here
Over many a dainty dish,
Let us drink anew to the time when you
Were a tadpole and I was a fish.
‘Oh, that’s a lively thought Partly but tell me about how I’m your Anima.’
Well, Darling, this is a story not unlike Smith’s poem of Evolution. It requires some imagination to put things into the perspective I’m going to give.
Biologically it is a fact that you and I as individuals are the result of the union of an ovum and a sperm. They come from two different individuals and though united in what becomes a new individual contribute separate identities. The ovum ends in the Anima and sperm in the Animus.
Now, this may be controversial but both the sperm and the ovum have intelligence and a primitive form of consciousness.’
‘Really, Partly, I’ve never heard that before.’
‘If you think about it Ange Darling it must be true. No organism can move without some form of intelligence or consciousness. Otherwise no organism could identify and find food. And yet the sperm released into the vagina can locate the ovum in complete darkness and finding the ovum violently and savagely attacks it forcing its way in against what must be formidable resistance. Hence in remembrance of which sexual union itself is a violent act by the male against the passive female. Once inside the sperm losing its tail occupies the ovum expelling everything except the mitochondrial DNA. I’ve seen a picture of the result and what you have is a sun nestled up against a quarter new moon. This is strangely replicated by the Sun and Moon once every nineteen years hence the marriage of the sun and moon of folklore or myth. That marriage is an obvious replica of the union of the sperm and ovum. There will be those who will laugh but I maintain the myth of the marriage of the sun and moon is a remembrance of the union of the sperm and ovum.’
Ange: ‘I’m not laughing Partly dear, but honestly, I’ve never heard that before, I’ve never even imagined it but that would mean the sperm had consciousness before it was ejected.’
Me: Remembrance comes from the union combined with the fact of the marriage of the Sun and Moon. But intelligence and consciousness begins with the creation of the sperm obviously before it is ejected which means that the parent organism must program it to do what it has to do hence the sperm knows beforehand and follows directions. Furthermore it had to be lucky to have the closest proximity to the ovum while amidst an intense competition for the prize. You can see pictures of the ovum surrounded by sperm burrowing away. Does the female select from her suitors which to embrace or let in? These are serious questions.
Obviously the fittest doesn’t always win the prize as fully one fifth of the zygotes self-abort while some real monsters reach fruition. Few are ever as physically perfect and as beautiful as you are Ange and fewer still are endowed with intelligence of the kind you have. And look at us, eighty and seventy years old and we’ve found each other. A miracle of miracles.
Two different strands of DNA bond together with the ovate side taking its position on the left side of the body while the spermate takes the right. The union is seldom perfect, differences in hands and feet, left and right side of the face betray the past of the ovum and sperm.
To bond the two sides together the left half of the brain migrates to the right hemisphere of the brain while the spermatic hemisphere assumes a position on the left.
Now, as to the Anima Angeline:
When Freud and Jung examined the problem each came to the conclusion that men had an Anima, that is a female side, and women had an Animus or male side. I have come to the conclusion that they were only half right. As I see it the sperm is the Animus and each sex has one while each has an ovate Anima. If you think about it this has to be true because each contributor has a separate identity. It is the ‘marriage’ that makes them one. This is also reflected in the old marriage ceremony of man and woman where the two are declared one.
At the lower end of the system it terminates in the gonads while at the upper end, or the brain, I can only explain it by saying that there are loose ends that make up the Animus or Ego as the psychiatrists explain it and on the ovate hemisphere the Anima- that is in both men and women. In women the spermatic X is still the Animus. The female also has a left side but it is a X and not a y hence she has the equivalent of two Animas only one is active and the other passive.
Now, don’t laugh at me, but in the horned animals such as bull and ram the loose ends manifest themselves in horns. Man subconsciously recognized this when he chose bulls and rams to symbolize the male. The goddess was always personified as a woman but the god as a bull or ram. In many representations certain gods are portrayed with horns while Dionysus may have horns or show the bull’s hoof.
As the child develops he adopts characteristics of male and female models, these clothe the Anima and Animus. If your models are good I suppose your outlook is bright or brighter than if they aren’t. In my case my Anima models were terrible. They were formed by my mother and Gaines. Thus I had to dig myself out from under a load of feces to be as balanced as I am now while I have never been able to shed my negative outlook completely. There is still the touch of the sad sack about me that at my age I will never be able to shed.
However with the aid of Dr. Anton I have been able to deconstruct both my mother’s and Gaines baleful influence returning to a simulacrum of childhood innocence.
Angeline: Is Dr. Anton your psycho-analyst?
Me: So to speak Ange. He’s actually an alter ego existing only in my own mind. The great Dr. Anton Polarion.
Ange: (muffling a giggle) You talk to yourself?
Me: Yes, of course. How else can you integrate knowledge or solve problems? Dreams are just a form of talking to yourself. If you learn to dream properly you can resolve all kinds of problems. In terms of memory method I assigned my psychological studies to an imaginary person named Dr. Anton Polarion to work out my problems subconsciously and then notify me of the results.
Once again, if you think about it Ange, you will find subconscious projections of that sort are quite common. The Confessions of St. Augustine is a much revered book; it only makes sense if you believe a human can talk to an imaginary god and get answers. In point of fact Augustine was talking to himself much as I do with Dr. Anton except that I’ve always gotten better answers than Augustine ever got. Writing is talking to yourself and working out problems. That’s really the only way it can be done.
Of course if you walk down the street babbling out loud people are going to think you’re nuts. Don’t do that.
Still, Charles Dickens was frequently seen by his wife gesticulating as one of his imaginary characters and voicing his thoughts out loud to get them right on paper. So, as I say Dr. Anton extrapolated my Mother Constellation and separated it from Gaines and then separated both from my Anima while elucidating it so that I can understand my past correctly. Would you like to hear what my mother did to me, her own child?
Ange: Yes. But first who is Gaines and what does he have to do with your mother.
Me: William C. Gaines published comic books like Tales From The Crypt. His relationship to my mother comes from the way his comics portrayed women. His comics were quite misogynistic but very sexually stimulating. When my mother put me in the Orphanage it created a reaction such as that women could not be trusted. My mind combined that with Gaines misogynism thus the two were twined on my Anima.
OK Ange? But bear in mind that a woman is only a woman who becomes a mother through necessity. Not all women are cut out to be mothers, mine wasn’t. Mine dealt me the kind of poker hand that a player looks at once and folds but I couldn’t fold, I had to play that crummy hand.
I know nothing of my mother’s girlhood. As I was born in May when she was twenty she must have been nineteen when I was conceived. I have seen a picture of her when she was eighteen; in that picture she looks grim and troubled. I suspect she was pregnant with me when she married. If so this would have been the first of the grievances she assigned me.
She must have graduated high school in nineteen thirty-six thus her girlhood was lived during the Depression. She never spoke of the period but she and that whole age cohort lived in almost a paralyzing fear that it would return all their lives. My father must have had a terrible time finding a job as in his desperate need to provide for us both he joined Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps. Thus, at work in the forests he was gone for long periods however sending most of his wages home. My mother was not wise in her use of them.
Rather than remain idle she dated at least one man who impregnated her in the back seat of a Chevy in the parking lot of a grocery store. My father came home to find her in that state. As you can imagine he was crushed when he got the news. He insisted she tell him who the guilty party was but in the way of women she refused to name his name. My father then began slapping her around but she still refused.
As I was standing against the wall watching I became distressed finally jumping on his back as he stood over her when she lay after having been knocked down. My father was at a loss of what to do. My mother warned me to run. My father said that no, he would never hurt his son.
I had stopped the beating but my mother got up and placed me against the wall telling me not to interfere and then lay back down to resume the beating.
Her astonishing reaction had a profound effect on my personality. Her action was totally incomprehensible to me. As my mother developed my father became more distraught. And then the little bastard was dropped. I presume my father walked out at that time because he was not around anymore and shortly thereafter my mother, myself and the little bastard moved out of our house and in with her parents.
Ange: Why do you call your brother ‘the little bastard’ Partly? That seems harsh.
Me: Perhaps it is Ange but he is not my brother, he is an, what you might call, Illegal immigrant. You have to consider the psychology of my mother. She was one of that lot that thinks the woman can do no wrong. Therefore she laid the blame for her infidelity on my father. Then his treatment of her, hitting her and then leaving, was an unreasonable response in her mind so she transferred her resentment of my father on to me, a constant reminder, not of her shame, but his unreasonableness. She did whatever her female wiles permitted to injure my psyche, twist it, pervert it, thus becoming an evil presence on my Anima that over the years nearly completely debilitated me. From my experience my Anima had completely failed me leaving me distraught and incapable of responding properly.
From the time the little bastard was born she showed him preference over me, her first born. That is an unforgiveable sin. You can see that, can’t you Angeline?
Ange: I can certainly understand how you feel.
Me: I hope so. I only saw my father once after that. When he called at my grandparents. In the interim my mother had done everything to make me hate and fear my father. He must have found a good job, this last meeting must have been sometime in nineteen forty-one because he brought me this wonderful green corduroy suit with a stoplight badge on the pocket. I was apparently psychologically affected because in later years I wore a lot of corduroy and I still own a green corduroy sport jacket; it’s in the closet if you want to look at it.
Ange: How can you remember so precisely Partly? How old were you in nineteen forty-one, two or three?
Me: I’m two and half years older than the little bastard and while I remember the incidents dating it is merely a matter of reconstruction beginning from nineteen thirty-eight. I did have a lot of trouble disentangling the incidents and putting them in order but auto-suggestion and dreaming cleared that up. Took a while though.
Anyway, my father called me to him and I wanted to go but my mother had a hypnotizing threatening gaze fixed on me and I didn’t know what she would do if I disobeyed her so I didn’t go to him.
‘Oh, you’ve made him hate me.’ My father said.
Then my mother astonished me: she lied straight out. She said she hadn’t. First she refused to allow me to rescue her from a beating and now she told a bare faced criminal lie. My father turned, crushed, and walked out much to my mother’s satisfaction. I never forgave her of ever trusted her again.
What she did to my father next I have no memory of and can only guess. In Michigan during my entire childhood and youth people constantly threatened to put someone they didn’t like in the insane asylum. Apparently all a family member had to do was make a complaint and have the unfortunate committed. Once in you never got out. Of course it was more difficult for strangers to do that but still possible.
I have no idea what my father did, perhaps he was in despair at losing his son, whatever he did his mother had him committed, I’m assuming for being violent and was probably put down as criminally insane. My mother took great pleasure in testifying against him citing the beating he gave her but probably not the cause. He spent the rest of his life in Traverse City. One day decades later I got a call from her saying significantly: He’s dead. He’s dead, just like I was a fellow conspirator. ‘Who’s dead?’ I demanded. ‘Him.’ Came back the reply. ‘Your father.’ Lord. I’d forgotten all about him but that is a woman’s violence and vengeance. I learned a lot about women from mom.
Ange: All women aren’t like that Partly.’
Me: Perhaps not Ange but that doesn’t change my situation but that notion of responsibility is part and parcel of every woman. The man is always guilty. Besides when she had my father put away I remained as a living reminder of her guilt, or his, if she maintained that point of view. She somehow transferred her feeling of virtue to the little bastard while quietly punishing me.
As I say the last time I saw my father was in nineteen forty-one. I don’t know when my father was committed to Traverse City but in late 1943 she placed me with foster parents or rather perhaps as a boarder with a family named Smith where I remained until shortly after VE day in May of nineteen forty-five. Then I was transferred to a woman named Johnson not very far from my grandmother’s.
Ange: Where was your little brother at the time?
Me: Oh he came along to disrupt my life, the little prick, as a part of, I guess, collateral damage.
Ange: Did she ever visit you?
Me: I don’t ever remember seeing her at Mrs. Johnson’s but she came by maybe two or three times at the Smiths. She always wore real nice clothes. I could never understand why she didn’t have a little more in clothes money for me. Anyway, suffering rejection at the Smith’s just when I was beginning to trust them unsettled my mind and with problems caused by entering a new school a month or so from year’s end I began to become very morose. I suppose it was then that I acquired a depressed state of mind.
Mrs. Johnson could only take so much. She asked my mother to remove me. It was then that the horror of horrors struck. She put me away in the orphanage. I could never really place where the orphanage was in later years but it was only three or four blocks from my grandmother’s.
Ange: That’s close. Did she ever visit you? Take you overnight or anything?
Me: No. I didn’t see her for several years. She was always the hardest of hard hearted women. I used to roam all over in those years but it never occurred to me to go in that direction.
I was there in the orphanage for two years, nineteen forty-six to nineteen forty-eight. I don’t know if you understand what it means to be in an orphanage but it completely declasses you, places you lower than the Negroes in the social scale, you become a non-person, invisible. Carry the scars for the rest of your life in one way or another. A real soul shattering experience.
According to orphanage policy they farmed you out to foster homes at the age of ten, another really horrible experience I escaped because my mother remarried in nineteen forty-eight. I was pretty independent by that time so I knew I was in for it but I thought it was only eight years so I could manage it. As I look back I’d have to say I didn’t. By graduation time I was a basket case unable to function.
My mother’s method to torment me was to frustrate and deny me, to prevent me from enjoying my life at all. I have no idea how she talked about me but I was amazed when just before graduation a bunch of us were talking about what we were going to do. I mentioned I wanted to go on to college when a girl I hardly knew scornfully told me that I was not that I was going into the Navy for twenty years and could come back as a Chief Petty Officer. I asked her where she got that and she said my mother told her. I don’t know how she knew my mother but sure enough within a matter of days my mother took me to the recruiting office and signed me up. A couple weeks later and I was gone.
Thus she had me safely stowed away in the equivalent of the insane asylum for life just like my father. I might as well have gone to foster parents, it couldn’t have been any worse.
The problem with the Mother Constellation was I couldn’t find the motive for her hatred but as she and Gaines occupied my Anima I had no control of the right hemisphere, my Anima had completely failed me. Fortunately Dr. Anton was able to untangle the two stands of Gaines and my mother so that my Anima was freed. The final reckoning occurred just a couple weeks before I saw you standing there in Nordstrom’s and I recognized you as what my Anima should have been all along. In conventional terms: Love at first sight.
Ange: I don’t remember that Partly. I only have vague memories of you taking to me in the shower. How did I get there?
Me: Well, I came up for the Nordstrom’s grand opening and wandering through the high fashion department I saw you standing there almost as though you had a sign around your neck reading Rescue Me. When I got closer I realized that you must be catatonic. I put my arm around your waist and said: Come with me, Darling Girl. Gave you a little tug and led you to the limo.
Fortunately you were not yet beyond the range of contact so I was able to bring you back to consciousness. Since then you’ve been recovering well. Do you remember anything about the Sun and Moon?
Ange: Yes. There was a god and goddess and they married us. Is it true then that you are my husband and I’m your wife.
Me: Yes, it is Darling. You might say a marriage made in heaven. I’ve got you babe in my heart and on my mind and here beside me.
Ange: Alright. I don’t know how it happened but you have been in my dreams Love.
Me: And you mine. Now Sweetheart would you take the time to tell me your story. How did you get into that catatonic state?
Ange: I don’t know if I should. You might not like me so much then.
Me: Oh nonsense, Angeline, life is difficult at best. Let the dead past bury its dead. The way is forward. Let’s make our future the best years of our lives. You can’t make me stop loving you. You are part of me.
Ange: Well, alright.
Continue to Clip 8.
February 14, 2016
Vol. I, Clip 5
The Vampyres Of New York
Baron: Perry, I really must insist on more substantiation then you’re presenting. So far all I’m hearing is mere speculation.
Me: No, not mere speculation Baron. But, bear in mind I’m not a mere chronicler nor am I merely recording events. I am after motivations, the reason why, how it was done. I’m dealing with the unconscious part, underlying agendas.
I have read tens of thousands of pages of Jewish history and literature and even more Euroamerican. This is interpretive history not a monograph. An essay.
Besides source material has grown exponentially and now includes tens of thousands of songs, millions of hours of movies, TV and radio. What was once ephemera has now been captured and reproduced on a permanent basis. With the internet I can hear actual speeches, see the original performances by the original stars. Not only can I see the movies I can own them for a pittance and study them carefully. New and important sources that didn’t exist until the nineteen thirties such as comic books. Many of them have been issued in bound volumes. The amount of information is beyond comprehension.
My reading, my sources must of necessity be very different from yours even though we may be covering the same topics. Nobody can possibly have read everything. Nobody is really qualified to write histories and yet it must be done.
Some guy named Peter Watson tried to write Ideas: A History. One big problem with his history is that he doesn’t have a clue as to what Freud was writing about yet he gives a long reverential chat about ‘that great man.’ The guy was in over his head. I commend the effort but deplore the result. So perhaps with me. I have no hopes of persuading everyone yet as far as it goes my account is as close to the truth as anyone else will get.
Still, as I say, I haven’t read all the auto-biographies and biographies and they are absolute essentials. I never will read them but then nobody else will either. And then there’s the question of depth and breadth of mind. How powerful is the mind doing the interpreting? How extensive and intensive is his experience?
Lessing: Yes. I quite agree. It is impossible to write the so-called definitive history. Perception changes with time. A lot depends on what you want to emphasize. It isn’t necessary to accept anyone’s account at full face value but I’m getting something out of Perry’s account.
Max Savings: Hear, hear Baron. I think it is obvious that Perry is well read. He has a depth in certain areas that I don’t have and I’ve done my reading. I actually know very little about Freud so assuming Perry knows what he’s talking about, and I think he does, I’m getting food for thought.
Baron: Well, I’ll defer my judgment till later.
Me: Alright, now where was I? Alright. One of the first things the Jews did when adequate numbers reached the New World was to set up their own fraternal Order. Fraternal Orders were big in the US so one more came unnoticed.
While the other Orders were all ecumenical except for perhaps the Catholics the Jewish Order of B’nai B’rith was purely Jewish as the name that might be translated The Circumcised Brethren indicates. No gois could be in the B’nai B’rith but Jews could be in all the other Orders. The B’nai B’rith was founded in 1843 and over the years as the number of Jews in the US increased the Order grew and became international in scope. Hitler expelled the Order in 1939.
A lodge was established in Vienna the home base of both Theodore Herzl who founded Zionism and Sigmund Freud who founded Psycho-analysis. Freud joined B’nai B’rith in 1895 attending the weekly meetings until the Nazis closed the lodge. It is important that Freud joined the lodge because he thought they were like-minded to him, that is, they also desired the destruction of Europe and Europeans. Therefor some major plotting against Europe must have taken place at those weekly meetings. I don’t know whether Herzl ever joined nevertheless the Zionist ideas circulating in Vienna must surely have been a major topic at the meetings. Now, Baron, to meet your objections, I am blending provable history with speculation. That is cause and effect. If something happened certain prior conditions must have existed and certain consequence must have ensued. The consequences are clear but the connections are hazy.
The first problem for the Lodge was how to disarm the enemy. A method to subvert and confuse. This warfare was asymmetrical. This is Jewish conspiracy conducted by Jews posing as nationals of the various European States and those of North America. There must have been communication between the various national operatives. Activities had to have been and were, thus as Ford claimed, an international Jewish conspiracy.
The primary target was the Czar. The Jewish fixation was to eliminate the Czar, kill him, obliterate him and all his works, remembering the Amalekites, and this is what they did. Then where was the center of operations? Obviously Vienna. The city was close to the transit point of Brody though which the majority of Jewish emigrants passed on the way to the embarkation point of Hamburg.
Thus 1895 is the year Herzl originated Zionism and Freud joined the B’nai B’rith. Thus Freud joined a group of accomplished Jewish conspirators. I’m guessing but it would seem probable that the infamous Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion were worked up there with Freud’s very important psychological help. They would have been written during the lead up to the First Russian Revolution of 1903-05. This revolution was an international affair coordinating American, European and Russian operations along with the Japanese.
That revolutionary attempt, a wholly Jewish affair, was a truly international operation involving the war between Russia and Japan. Both the Czar and the Japanese needed money to conduct the war. Thus, the Rothschilds and Parisian financiers prevented anyone from lending money to the Czar while at the same time in the US Jacob Schiff of Kuhn Loeb and the American Jewish Committee looted the Equitable Assurance Society of two hundred million dollars that he loaned to the Japanese allowing them to wage the war against Russia. However amid the Russian disasters of the war the revolutionary attempt failed.
It was certain that the Jews would be accused of fomenting the revolution so, perhaps, to confuse the issue the Protocols were given to a noted anti-Semitic priest, Sergei Nilus. He published them but they went unnoticed until they were revived as needed after the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917.
One can’t be certain with the available information but that or something very close to that happened.
After 1905 Freud wrote his Three Sexual Theories that was meant to overturn European God centered morality in favor of a Satanic morality. Freud would further the Satanic principle in subsequent writings.
The Jews having discovered America much preferred it to Russia. Thus never known to observe any other laws but their own will they then disregarded all US immigration laws organizing a mass removal of all Russian Jews to the US. That was to have begun in 1914. Hatred for the Czar prevented this from taking place. The assassination of the Austrian Grand Duke at Sarajevo is said to have been planned and organized in Paris, that means by the Jews.
The assassination then pitted the Russians against Austro-Germany. Germany became the Jews horse until he Czar was murdered. Although courted by the Allies from 1914 on to assist them the Jewish government backed Germany so long as Russia was in the war. With Russia first seized by the Jews, it must never be forgotten that Kerensky was a Jew, in February in October the Bolshevik Jews completed the seizure. The Jews then extorted the Balfour Declaration from England as the or a price for throwing their support to the Allies.
It would be interesting to know what they would have done if the Allies had said: We don’t need you anymore. That would have left them hanging with no influence. As it was accepting their help gave them power over defeated Germany and a place at the Peace negotiations. As the war had removed the Czar in Russia so the defeat of Germany eliminated the obstacle of the Kaiser leaving the German people seemingly defenseless. Thus Jewish revolutionaries flowed back into Germany from Russia secure in the belief that they would seize that country and consequently the whole of Eastern Europe. Indeed Bavaria fell and was rescued by the army while there were numerous attempts in Berlin and other cities.
The Jews were foiled by the millions of German fighting men who were in no mood to accept Jewish Bolshevism already proving a disaster in Russia at the hands of these very Jews and it would get worse, much worse, Satanism on a stick.
The Revolution of course was the success of Marxist Communism. Marxism was then central to European politics and Freudianism was now established in the Jewish psyche so that the two ideologies began to be fused into one deadly combination.
Freud lived to a great old age before committing suicide in 1938 so he was still very active in the years between the wars as were his fellows. The Frankfort School in Germany worked up Critical Theory beginning in the early twenties that sought to undermine Western thought patterns and thus institutions. The Da Da Movement, an attack on mores, had begun in Switzerland during the war years. It evolved parallel to the Frankfort School.
The war had changed things or at least saw them brought to maturity. In Freud’s own camp a disciple by the name of Wilhelm Reich had brought Freudian sexual theories to their logical conclusion and it was a whopper. Freud was so horrified at the monster he had created in the image of Reich that he expelled him from the Order, placed him outside the Pale, an Outlaw. Like all good cranks and perverts Reich migrated to the United States.
He was no more welcome in the US than he was with the Freudians. It takes a lot to find rejection by the US; the country has taken in some amazing crazies. Wilhelm Reich was too much. After a series of lunacies he was arrested and imprisoned while his books were collected and committed to the flames. Yes sir! A book burning right here in the good old USA.
The authorities didn’t get them all however; some made their way to Greenwich Village so that Satanic Reichian sexuality became the backbone of the sexual revolution. Scary stuff.
During the thirties the whole of the Frankfort School and Freudian Order fled Germany and Austria infecting the US like some horrid virus. Freud himself held out until the Order cleared out then being the last to flee turned out the lights of Europe committing suicide shortly thereafter.
So at various times in the United States the Freudian presence increased in its virulence. The conquest of the country was the goal. Americans were unsuspecting. Of course psycho-analysis was taken seriously so that Freud and Freudianism was thought of as purely a medical or academic approach to psychology. But the name Freud was legitimized. Its political aspects were ignored.
Freud’s nephew on his wife’s side, a fellow by the name of Edward Bernays lived in the US. Bernays is associated with the founders of the Public Relations business. He received his early training during the war with George Creel’s Committee of Public Information. The CPI was critical in transforming America.
The CPI was a total blitz on the American psyche to stifle all opposition while conditioning it to accept any government direction. The CPI was a tremendous Pavlovian experiment. This was psychologically devastating.
Bernay’s experience taught him how easily the public mind could be influenced to accept anything with the proper suggestion, indoctrination and conditioning. As Freud’s nephew he visited the Old Master in Vienna receiving hints and directions, perhaps being informed of the whole plan.
In 1913 the B’nai B’rith organized its terrorist unit in the US to do ‘God’s work’, the infamous Anti-Defamation League. Note the words carefully. There was no league in the general sense although the word means non-sectarian; it was part of the Jewish conspiracy to silence any criticism allowing them to function in the open undisturbed. The term anti-defamation was meant only against Jews while its other purpose was to defame and blacklist any who spoke up. While in the twenties and beyond whispering campaigns were the method when extended into today the method is open denunciation and deprivation of livelihoods along with black listing. People have lost careers, had ‘sacred’ contracts cancelled and in many cases hundreds of millions of dollars in future income lost. How’s that for instilling terror?
I mention Freud because as I mentioned back in 1895 Freud began attending weekly meetings of B’nai B’rith that he never missed for the rest of his life. By 1913 Freud was as accomplished a psychologist as he would ever be. I think there can be little doubt that Freud’s contribution to the formation of the ADL was paramount. The ADL was immediately effective and very aggressively employed.
Thus Bernays and Freud’s intent must have revolved around the subversion of the American psyche. Post war Bernays became an advertising consultant. While today probably few people have heard of Bernays he is considered one of the ‘fathers’ of modern advertising. At the time advertising was limited to print, that is newspapers and magazines, and radio as it became truly commercial in the thirties.
Print was made more effective by improvements in color lithography so that really dramatic ads could be presented. They were really great ads too. The twenties and thirties were a newspaper and magazine paradise. Magazines routinely sold millions of copies an issue while they were studied closely. I loved the ads in the forties and early fifties. TV introduced after the war put many magazines out of business but was a better tool for suggestion, indoctrination and conditioning.
Bernays was responsible for American Tobacco- Lucky Strikes- ads so he produced some stunning layouts. As Lucky Strike was trying to expand their business by inducing women to smoke Bernays produced ads displaying beautiful hyper-chic women with cigarette in their hands, thus the suggestion that it was Ok for women to smoke. The women also looked easy or sexually promiscuous so the suggestion was also an attack on sexual morality. The indoctrination came from the slogan- reach for a Lucky not a sweet- while the conditioning came from repeated exposure. By 1950 Lucky Strikes was way out in front, the leading cigarette. So Bernays showed how easily it could be done without the subject knowing he was being manipulated. The ‘elite’ were surely in control.
In the thirties then, with the advent of Hitler that alarmed the Jews, Bernays acting then as a psychologist led the defensive and offensive maneuvers of the Jewish establishment.
The Jews as voiced by Bernays realized, or thought they did, that the public was irresponsible. It not only did what American advertisers led them to do but in the equally effective hands of a master propagandist like Hitler the public could be led where Jews didn’t want them to go.
Hence as Bernays expressed it, it was necessary for a responsible elite to guide the public in the direction they wanted it to go. See the Irving Berlin song introduced at this time: God bless America, stand beside it and guide it…a masterpiece of propaganda. The Jews selected themselves as the psycho-pomps of the American psyche using the more and more effective forms of media.
To back track a bit for political purposes: The German Jews of mid-century – nineteenth that is- took a paternalistic role in relationship to the medieval Jews of the Pale of Settlement. These latter Jews however came to the US in their millions. Their way was paved and eased by the US German Jews who consequently formed the majority of the Jewish political cadre in the US to the end of the two world wars when the Jews of the Pale assumed leading roles more or less melding the two groups.
There was therefore a body of two or three dozen German Jews who guided the destiny of both groups. These were very influential men who are edited from all general American histories then and now. Bernard Baruch has been described as the most powerful person in the Roosevelt period yet you will seldom hear his name mentioned and he has been all but forgotten in non-Jewish circles while I’m certain most Jews are either in the same boat or have only a very dim idea of who he was.
It would be a serious mistake to believe that Jews in general are well informed on their history. My wife’s aunt who was a Jewish activist during the Sixties and Seventies had never even heard of the American Jewish Committee until I mentioned it to her. This is almost inconceivable to me but there you have it.
Baruch was a Wall Street speculator around the turn of the century, perhaps the most famous bear pre-1914. He was despised as such. He is thought to have been worth a million when WWI began. Appointed the head of the War Industries Board by Wilson he controlled all US industry; it is thought that he was worth two hundred million by war’s end.
As a further example of his money making ‘skills’ FDR’s son-in-law Curtis Dall in his memoir says that at one point before FDR’s inauguration Baruch told him that he, Baruch, owned five sixteenths of the visible silver in the world. Dall was impressed but didn’t get it. Several months into the administration Roosevelt arbitrarily raised the price of silver from ten dollars an ounce to twenty dollars an ounce. I don’t know how many tens of millions or even hundreds of millions that meant to Baruch who was influential in getting FDR to raise the price but surely it was princely.
In possession of this vast wealth Baruch was prodigal in its use. FDR remarked that his efforts were circumscribed by Baruch who owned, Roosevelt’s word, sixty congressmen. I don’t know what their prices were but the cost probably nicked Baruch more than somewhat. Thus he persuaded FDR to finance his own opposition.
During the same interwar period the Louis Brandeis-Felix Frankfurter combine was organizing Congress along other lines. Frankfurter is said to have been the second most powerful man of the period. Brandeis died in the mid-thirties but Frankfurter having developed whole cadres of operatives while a law professor at Harvard had at least dozens perhaps hundreds of operatives filling roles in all the branches of government. Alger Hiss was one of what were known as Felix’ Happy Hot Dogs.
The first twenty years of the century were spent in creating organizations such as the American Jewish Committee, the Anti-Defamation League of B’nai B’rith and the NAACP among many others: that is, vigilante outfits controlled the social scene as the politicos controlled the political scene.
Numerous rabbis were active posing as great humanitarians seeking to root out ‘injustice’ while attempting in conjunction with the others to subvert Anglo-American mores. The attempt was to cut the ground out from under the American psyche. The whole was guided by the Great Satan Sigmund Freud under the ‘scientific’ guise of psycho-analytical ideology.
Having witnessed Baruch plundering America in his role at the WIB Ford, the Dodge Brothers and other industrialists had sharp words with its administrator creating post-war conflict. Ford took the matter into his own hands sounding the alarm through his international newspaper the Dearborn Independent. He published ninety some articles demonstrating the Jewish displacement of Anglo-Saxon mores.
In 1906 a US sociologist by the name of Graham Sumner published a book demonstrating how mores were developed and changed. The book is called Folkways. Perhaps both Ford and the Jews studied it because they both seem to have understood it well.
Ford’s challenge was taken seriously by the Jews who spent the next seven years 1920-27 attempting to destroy Ford. The battle ended in a draw with Ford receiving the odium. The battle would be renewed by the Jews in the thirties who combined with government and labor power through FDR to destroy Ford while capturing his grandson Henry Ford II as the administrator of the surviving rump of Ford Motors and the fabulously wealthy Ford Foundation.
On the European side Hitler became German chancellor. Even as the US Jew Samuel Untermyer declared a Jewish war against Hitler and Germany Hitler was making it plain that Jews were no longer welcome in Germany. This was disastrous for the US. The entire cadre of Freud’s subversive Order uprooted and fled to the US, primarily New York City and Los Angeles. Thus the US became Freudian occupied territory in 1940.
Hey boys, I’m getting a little dry. Could we take a short break before I resume?
Lessing: An idea whose time has come. It will also give us time to probe a few of your ideas.
Me: Oh yeah. You want to know where I cribbed it from right? You’ve got quite a few of the books in your terrific library, Lessing.
Marc Giusty: An excellent selection, there are more in his study and bedroom too.
Max Savings: You don’t happen to live at the Strand do you Lessing?
Lessing: Among other stores. NYC is a wonderful place, a real book lover’s heaven.
Baron Cammell: Perry, you paint with rather a broad stroke. I wonder what depth you have?
Me: Depth? There’s more than one kind of depth Baron. If you mean am I deep into monographs of minutiae in any particular topic, I’m rather light on the monographic side. I’m more interested in the flow so I try to find books on topics from several different viewpoints and analyze them that way. Given your unified field approach Baron I’m sure you understand that the material available is incomprehensible. No one is ever going to come close to being able to claim to be adequately prepared.
For instance, to have been able to have tracked down and read all the biographies of the Jewish participants in America from 1900 to, say, 1950 along with other necessary reading is impossible in itself; however the broad outlines are touched on by each writer with some separate detail so you get a sort of consensus and then compare to writers of other opinions on the subject to get a pretty good idea of its direction.
On the other hand I have plumbed the Ford-Jewish relations in its minutiae as well as its associated relationship with the Protocols of Zion. It wasn’t necessary to bring that up here but I could go on for a few hours on those topics if the situation called for it.
Marc: Very well Perry, but I believe you think that the Jews are comparable to the Vampyre motif Aren’t you afraid of contradiction?
Me: No. I’m fearless, Marc, absolutely fearless. But, seriously, we must always be prepared to answer challenges. Arnold Toynbee who I thing makes a good case for his interpretation of history which is undoubtedly not faultless, but then it doesn’t have to be invulnerable at every point to be generally true nevertheless has been savagely attacked by what I consider inferior minds.
I expect to be challenged when I state my ideas positively but I’m satisfied that I can defend any invulnerabilities, chinks in the armor you see.
Max Savings: I should think you had been savaged by the Jews you criticize so severely by now.
Me: No I haven’t. The Jews will never attack me directly. Several of my pieces have been posted on the ADL site noting ‘the rise of anti-Semitism’ and I might add without any notification to me or to allow me any defense from their charge of what they call anti-Semitism and what I call critical thinking. They will never allow anyone who can defend themselves the opportunity they merely resort to ‘dynamic silence’, defamation and black listing.
They will never challenge your thinking or its expression, merely defaming you as an anti-Semite. If I were still employable I’m sure I would have lost my job long ago. As it is I am a social outcast.
Baron: But how can you justify the charge of Vampirism. Isn’t that a little extreme?
Me: Well Baron, as I say, one reads all points of view whether forbidden books and authors or not. Very frequently in European literature the charge of being ‘blood suckers’ appears frequently as well as other blood related metaphors. I don’t ever recall ever having heard of them specifically referred to as Vampires although Du Maurier’s Svengali is a perfect description of a psychic Vampyre and that can be demonstrated by their deeds, methods and mythology. And thus rather they are authentic or not you have the evidence of the Protocols of Zion. They can deny and deny but there it is today backed up by Jewish control of the entire media. Nothing gets published or made without their consent and if something does get by they force its recall.
Baron: Oh, that old canard.
Lessing: Oh Baron, I think it is perfectly obvious today that Jewish control of the media is a given. Most Jews I know don’t even deny it, they’re quite proud of it and smug about it.
At this point I began to look askance at Cammell. Even in a group of five at least one or two are going to be spies. I once attended a meeting where I could identify more than half as agents. As a matter of fact I knew some guy who was trying to establish some Communist unit of some kind. He was the one in his small group that wasn’t a spy. I marked Baron down as one.
We chatted on for several minutes until Max said: Time is flying, it’s already after one. Not that I’m rushing you, Perry, but can you give us an idea…
Me: Oh Max, I think we’ll all be able to have breakfast together but to keep your spirits up I’ve got a prescription for Obetrol here if you like.
Marc: Obetrol? Isn’t that the stuff Andy Warhol took?
Me: Yeh. That’s why I got the prescription. Part of my research. I wanted to see how it worked.
Max: How does it?
Me: Great if you want to speed along in a most pleasant way. A quarter tab and you guys will be all attention. You might even think I sparkle.
Max: It’s not addictive is it?
Me: I don’t have an addictive personality. When I said it was research it really is. Obetrol is like booze, a little goes a long way. If you’re not alcoholic there’s no worry.
Lessing, Marc and Max: OK, I’ll try a quarter tab.
Baron: I’ll abstain.
Me: Alright. There’s a tab. Divide it up. I’ll get back to my essay. As a reminder there is nothing different or exceptional about the Jews. They are just another people pursuing their own ends for their own benefit. They have no concern for anyone else but themselves. This is natural however. By the clever use of hypnotism developed by Sigmund Freud they have the ability to cloud men’s minds something like the fictional Shadow. The main weapon in that particular arsenal is the ability to destroy the Other by the mere whisper of the charge of anti-Semitism. I’m sure you’ll agree that this is a tool for terrorism. The Other has been conditioned to shake in his boots in fear of the accusation. Indeed, the term has conferred great power on the Jews who today can blacklist anyone, get them fired from lucrative or even dream jobs, by the mere pointing of a finger. They have conferred this ability on their favored Negro auxiliaries using the term racism. This is tolerated and embraced by the Other. One may say that the Other is so hypnotized that they have no will of their own.
That being said, the advent of Wolf Hitler was the best thing that could have happened to the Jews. As I said earlier Freud’s nephew Edward Bernays, the public relations man, said that in order to prevent unruly human nature from expressing anti-social, that is anti-Jewish, behavior it was necessary for an elite, that is the Jews, to devise means of conditioning minds to honor Jews above all others including themselves.
Thus Hitler gave them the means to denounce anyone they didn’t like as a Fascist if they couldn’t nail them as an anti-Semite. A sort of hierarchy of name calling was developed. This was augmented by newspaper and magazine writers together with influential radio commentators such as Raymond Gram Swing who, while important then, is unknown today. Even such a household name then like Walter Winchell will receive stares today.
Their fierce ad hominem defamation campaigns were carried on in a fight to the finish. Chief among their victims were Henry Ford, William Randolph Hearst and Charles Lindbergh. The Communist legions were turned loose on Ford making several attacks on his River Rouge plant while infiltrating the assembly lines sowing discontent and sabotage requiring the Service Department to spy, that is detect the Communist agents. This in turn was then portrayed as industrial tyranny. Very trying for Ford, I can tell you.
W.R. Hearst was a victim of the expropriatory taxes fostered by the Jews. As one who indulged his desires to the fullest Hearst could no longer indulge his royal life style that collapsed on his head forcing him into near bankruptcy while he in fact lost control of his empire.
In his heyday Hearst had been the reigning power in Hollywood even calling shots for Louis B. Mayer and his transcendental MGM. Hearst who foisted the career of his mistress, Marion Davies, on MGM had compelled Mayer to build a special house on the lot for Davies. Stripped of his power by the expropriatory taxes, Mayer discovered that he had the upper hand compelling Hearst to remove Davies’ house from the lot. Hearst had the house cut in two so that it could be moved through the Hollywood streets. As an extra humiliation one half of the house fell off the truck mid-Hollywood. One can still hear the laughter on the MGM lot.
Shortly thereafter Orson Welles shot his mockumentary of Hearst called Citizen Kane to add insult to injury while elevating the level of merriment.
That left Charles Lindbergh to destroy. Another movie called Keeper of the Flame was made that as Citizen Kane had demeaned Hearst, defamed Lindbergh. The Great Hero of the Atlantic Flight was portrayed as a Fascist megalomaniac. I will say that if today you don’t know the movie was meant to humiliate Lindbergh it would be hard to guess who was meant. In many ways Lindbergh’s persecution is difficult to understand. His father was a congressman and dissident. It is not impossible that he may have said or done something to offend the ever-sensitive Jews. Thus the sins of the father may have been passed to the son. Other than that, as an aviation pioneer Lindbergh was the first to fly solo from the US to Europe for which he became a huge American hero and celebrity. Perhaps it was mere envy that made him a target.
Other than that, when asked by Roosevelt to survey German aircraft in the thirties Lindbergh gave an objective report rather than a subjective condemnation that the Jews preferred. Being objective apparently marked him as an arch anti-Semite in Jewish eyes hence by the late thirties he was singled out as a Nazi sympathizer, even as a secret Nazi hence the movie Keeper of the Flame. Then in 1940 after the creation of the America First Committee that was dedicated to keeping the US out of the war so ardently desired by the Jews Lindbergh led them in their effort. Of course the Jews were the leaders in seeking to involve the US hence the America First effort frustrated Jewish goals thus confirming their hatred of Lindbergh.
But where was the handle to discredit him? In a very strange campaign they sought to portray him as a Hitler acolyte seeking to establish a Nazi dictatorship in the US.
Even though the campaign began after FDR’s third election in 1940 when it was impossible to believe that Lindbergh sought to be president the Jews persisted releasing their defamatory movie. In 1941-42 Keeper of the Flame scripted by the Communist Donald Ogden Stewart was released that depicted a great American hero who was a secret Fascist. Even though the protagonist died in a car crash when a bridge he was to drive over was sabotaged the movie was still supposed to refer to him. The theme would be reanimated nearly sixty years later in Philip Roth’s novel The Plot Against America. Apparently the Jews love to beat a dead horse.
Once FDR led the US into the wars the Jews compelled him to round up all the anti-war dissidents who were held for trial in 1944 as Fascists agents. Thus the whole pre-war cadre of peace advocates were removed.
While having had FDR under their thumb, when Roosevelt died shortly after beginning his fourth term Jewish influence was greatly diminished as Anglo-Americans fought for control.
By this time the members of the Freudian Order were firmly established in NYC and Hollywood where their influence was greatly felt. Thus by the mid-fifties psycho-analysis became a dominant social force making ‘insanity’ acceptable. Along with the Freudians came the whole Jewish Frankfort School of Critical Theory. The formidable combined attack on the mores of a tolerant unsuspecting citizenry was received as an intellectual discipline hence they attempted to adjust to it. Idiots like Theodore Adorno and Herbert Marcuse were accepted as intellectual prodigies. The ‘boring’ fifties would be an intense battlefield if you were alert to it.
To recover 1945-56. It is not recognized that the Jewish holocaust had nothing to do with Jewish wishes to exterminate the German people. Those plans began at the very latest in the thirties. In 1940 before even a hint of the holocaust one Theodore Kaufmann of New Jersey published a book receiving wide national publicity calling for the elimination of the German people in toto. That is, he advocated genocide of the Germans. This attitude was continued in the so-called Morgenthau Plan that called for the elimination of Germany as a political entity and the genocide of the German people. According to Curtis Dall FDR’s son-in-law the plan was actually drafted by Harry Dexter White Morgenthau’s under-secretary. Despite his quintessential Anglo name White was Jewish. It is unlikely that he was the ultimate source. In layers of subterfuge masking the origin of the source it can probably be traced back to Bernie Baruch as part of the cabal. The plan was actually put into effect, or at least its beginnings, by Eisenhower until Truman pulled the plug firing Morgenthau.
Following their defeat the Germans were put through hell by Russians, British, French and we Americans. Eisenhower’s treatment of Germans was draconian. While it is very far from common knowledge Eisenhower was another acolyte of our Bernie Baruch. Eisenhower said in 1956 that he had sat at the feet of that wise old man for twenty-five years. It would seem likely then that he was following Baruch’s direction in attempting to eliminate German soldiers through exposure to the elements and starvation during one of the coldest winters on record.
When elected president he was still Baruch’s man. So from 1933 to 1960 with the possible hiatus of the Truman years the US was more or less under direct Jewish control or direction. In addition hundreds of thousands of Jews were admitted to the US in the years following 1945 regardless of US immigration laws.
While Wolf Hitler was the figurehead for German hatred allied hatred was directed at all Germans and Germany. Dissident Germans like Admiral Canaris tried to broker a ceasefire but were ignored by FDR.
Like it or not the Germans were the most intellectually advanced branch of the overall human species. No other could compete with them. WWI was fought as much as a trade war than any other. Quite simply none other could compete with them and this includes the Jews who consider themselves a race apart and above.
In recent Jewish comic books they express the opinion that they are a mutation endowed with superior abilities. The facts show otherwise; by their deeds shall ye know them as the Bible says.
Finance ‘capitalism’ in many ways is the key to the animosity directed at Germans. Under Hitler the Germans were opposed to the debt finance of International Finance. They repudiated it. Themselves stripped of the means to participate in world commerce by the draconian Versailles Treaty they developed a barter approach exchanging goods for goods that involved no debt thereby threatening finance capitalism. The Germans seriously penetrated South America virtually removing the area from finance capitalism. Not only that but South America and Germany prospered throughout the Depression. There was no defense against the German system but to destroy Germany.
I don’t know about you fellows but the rest of America is unaware of this because those who write the history books fail to mention it. To do so would be to admit guilt. To ensure that the Germans didn’t recover and challenge their system once again the Germans were punished more violently than any nation so large had been before. As the West expresses it they were brought within the Western (France, England and the US) normative system. Even under that system the Germans have created the most successful ‘normative’ economy in Europe. Once gain they were pre-eminent; the backbone of Europe.
Then what happened. The Jews directed the US attack on the Middle East. All this weapons of mass destruction crap in Iraq that at most might have threatened Israel. From that attacks were fomented on all the Moslem countries around the Mediterranean. And then they hit on the rock of Syria that disrupted their game. This in turn created a lot of displaced people that Israelis encouraged to invade Germany. Three million immigrants later and Germany is now a basket case.
With those millions displaced from Syria and Iraq those populations were decreased allowing the Israelis to invade those exhausted bombed over areas thus partially realizing their dream of a Tigris-Euphrates to the Nile empire.
So now Germany is reduced and Israel is enlarged. All from the fear of being called anti-Semites. Oh well, beside the point.
To go back: The Jews finagled Palestine away from the Arabs. Using European methods while as ex-Europeans knowing which products for manufactures Europeans desired they were able to establish a viable but not independent economy. Vampire like since 1948 they have sucked tens of billions of dollars if not hundreds of billions from Germany, Europe and the US. This undeniable fact will be denied of course.
On another hand the Jews were devastated by the so-called holocaust. While they believed themselves the most beloved people of the world they found rejection on every side. No one really wanted them while all refused to whole heartedly accept them as refugees. Remember the Amalekites.
By the 1950s the Jewish-German expatriates had firmly installed Freudianism as the dominant intellectual influence in the US. The Fifties were a very interesting period in US history. As is usual the first interpretation of social conditions was presented by literary figures. A truly amazing and astonishing production ensued. At this point traditional print culture was joined and assisted by a whole new genre of movies, that of science-fiction or fantasy pictures.
Like comic books these often puerile but still thoughtful movies were ignored by the older population. But even then they shaped American attitudes. I transited easily from comic books to the sci-fi movies and literature. These books and movies were almost a shadow educational system behind the schools. These were fantastic while being constructive unlike the destructive comic books; not that many of us understood all the subtexts of the stories. Oh, of course, some of them were obvious but a lot more weren’t.
The preachy ones like the movie The Day The Earth Stood Still seemed to be easily understood but there were subtexts that weren’t. These were the heydays of UFOs and visitors from outer space. In this case a savior lands in a really nifty flying saucer and the emissary from ‘above’ Klaatu slips out along with his Iron Man bodyguard named Gort. Klaatu’s mission is to find out whether earthlings are ready to join the interstellar confederation of peaceful planets. Remember, this was after WWII and as Korea was firing up. Needless to say Klaatu discovers we are an unruly quarrelsome lot not even fit to live together let alone function with the ‘perfected.’ He and Gort climb back into their saucer with a heidi-hi-ho and ‘We’ll be back when you get it figured out, if you ever do.’
Thus the idea was imprinted on the world mind that humanity was hopelessly bad with no redeeming features. The suggestion was repeated over and over to the point where people would kill you if you disagreed; probably proving Klaatu’s point. Thus it was an article of faith that if you met a spaceman he was peaceful and wouldn’t hurt you. And as you fellows probably know there were people who expected to meet a spaceman any day not to mention the itinerant time traveler who was also lurking out there. People talk about the Fifties like nothing was exciting. Incredible.
Along with the flying saucers and peaceful spacemen came the atomic mutations transformed by radiation. They were many and fantastic especially the many that came from the atomic testing grounds in the Pacific, Eniwetok and Bikini. A giant crab came forth. Giant crabs were OK but a little passé, nothing like the terrific Creature From The Black Lagoon or even the amazing Incredible Shrinking Man. We were being conditioned to accept almost anything; the most ridiculous being the giant carrot in, I think, It Came From Outer Space. In a way our minds were prepared for anything, not that we understood it.
Bubbling beneath this pseudo-reality that existed side by side with everyday life was Jewish paranoia equally not understood. Perhaps they had guilty consciences as few gois knew what they had been up to and if any did they knew what was good for them and kept their mouths shut. But Hollywood had terrified them especially when the wild misstatements and exaggerations about concentration camps began to circulate. The Jews projected their fears on all White people. They sincerely believed that death camps in the US were imminent. They saw a Hitler in every face they met. Check out the movie The Boys From Brazil.
William Paley of CBS came back from Europe in a cold sweat. In order to save a few Jews from the supposed American death camps he conceived the notion of packaging the future careers of as many Jewish entertainers as he could. He sold shares to their future to gois. That’s why there was this parade of Jewish comedians passing through TV during the Fifties and early Sixties. They had to justify the investment. What a blessing the advent of TV was. Thus the projected future earnings of the entertainers were divided into shares and sold to gois who would protect their investment and keep the entertainers from the death camps. Just like shares from General Motors.
Thus when you saw Milton Berle, Red Buttons, Jack Benny and the others on TV or elsewhere their pay was going into a fund to distribute to shareholders. Even higher comedy than Uncle Miltie. The tragedy was there never were or never would be death camps for the Jews in the US. I haven’t learned how well shareholders did but I would like to know. ‘That’s my boy up there.’ had real meaning.
In that light the post-war travails of Wilhelm Reich must have had Jews running for the safety of their orgone boxes.
While Reich’s books were burned they didn’t get them all, some survived to reach Greenwich Village where they began to insidiously undermine sexual morality. Much of the sexual activity of the Sixties was derived from Reich’s writing. Thus Reichian-Freudianism sexual subversion transformed society beginning in the Sixties. New York was, of course, the first to fall.
To not be promiscuous was to be repressed so that what Freud called inhibitions had to be discarded or, actually, repressed; that is, the lawlessness of the unconscious had to be released much as the traveler in Charles Beaumont’s story had released Satan from his cell.
Graham Sumner’s book on mores titled Folkways discusses the sex impulse this way:
The sex passion affects the weal or woe of human beings far more than hunger, vanity or ghost fear. It has far more complications with other interests than the other great motives. There is no escaping the good and ill, the pleasure and pain, which inhere in it. It has two opposite extremes- renunciation and license. In neither of these can peace and satisfaction be found, or escape from autogenetic impulses. There is no ground at all for the opinion that “nature” gave men an appetite the satisfaction of which would be peaceful and satisfactory, but that human laws and institutions have put it under constraints which produce agony. The truth is that license stimulates desire without limits and ends in impotent agony. Renunciation produces agony of another kind. Somewhere between lies temperance, which seems an easy solution, but there is no definition of temperance which is generally applicable, and whatever the limit may be set, there, on either side of it the antagonistic impulses appear again- one of indulgence, the other of restraint- producing pitfalls of vice and ruin, and ever renewing the problem of right and duty. Therefor regulation is imperatively called for by facts of “nature”, and the regulation must come from intelligence and judgment. No determination of what the regulation should be has ever yet been found in law or ethics which does not bear harshly on great numbers, and in all stages of civilization numbers are found who violate the regulations and live outside of them.
Freudian and Reichian psychology merely repudiates temperance coming down on the side of libertinism hence the Satanic sexual mores of Greenwich Village and the general sexual corruption of the West. As one can see Sumner’s discussion is intelligent while Freud’s, probably because he himself leant toward libertinism, unbalanced and ultimately destructive.
This unbalanced view of sexuality has become the norm in the US and Europe.
Added to this libertine view of sexuality was the promotion of drugs which combined with libertinism is totally destruction of the conscious mind and reason. Freud himself was a cocaine addict. As late as his forties he was pushing it on all as a panacea. He says he gave it up but I doubt it.
This potent cocktail of sex and drugs would erupt in New York City in the Fifties and Sixties when the Feelgood doctors became prominent.
Clip 6 follows.
December 28, 2015
Book I, Clip 3
The Vampyres Of New York
If you haven’t experienced that kind of mental agony you don’t know. I tossed and turned all afternoon and into the night. My brain was racked but not with pain. It was like all the connections had come loose and I had no control of my mental processes. There was no way to concentrate, to organize my thoughts to possibly think or be rational. It was like three fevers without temperature racking around in my brain.
I was exhausted and then possibly at one in the morning I heard a knocking. I sat up in bed wondering who in the world it could be. Then I heard Gaines again: Hello, I’m back. Let’s talk.
Well, Gaines! Of course I knew what was happening then. I was at that level of experience and conditioning between the birth process and more conscious experience. I had already cleared out the most compelling of my childhood fixations at forty-two when I integrated my personality. That freed me from compulsions and inhibitions but I gradually learned that there was another layer of control or influence yet beyond my reach. Gaines had now shown up so it was possible to free myself from that psychological layer. Small comfort at eighty but then few if any become so clear. Freud and Jung certainly never attained it. I flattered myself that I could be unique. The first of the New Men. Don’t smile, it was a pleasant thought.
This wasn’t the first incident of interior dialogue my mind had spoken to itself. I heard what they call voices back in my early teens. Of course like St. Augustine I had been convinced that one could talk to God. Unlike Augustine I wasn’t crazy enough to persist when God couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know when I asked.
And then back then I heard voices telling me to do inappropriate things like Kill your mother and Chuckles but I shut them up; I wasn’t to going to jail for any reason. And now, here was Gaines a more or less rational entity who would try to convince me to do evil I was certain. As in primeval days I was attached to the God Principle while Gaines was representing the Satanic Principle.
He seemed to be lodged in the right hemisphere just behind and above that ear. This puzzled me somewhat as I would have thought he would have been part of my Animus or Ego that being the male side of the brain; instead he was on my female side.
Then I realized that when Gaines had taken up a primal position in my consciousness I was sitting on the back steps of the Orphanage. When my mother had put me in the Orphanage and had walked away she had created this space in my mind, this psychological layer. Gaines and his evil comic books was therefore associated with my mother. Oh yes, my mother. Sometimes I wish I had heeded those early voices and offed both her and Chuckles. Chuckles, that mean assed bastard, was her second husband. They married when I was ten and I then came out of the Orphanage.
Well, you know, as I always told myself, you have to play the hand you’re dealt. I think I can say without comment that I played that lousy hand well. Here I was in New York City, the capital of the world, in a thirty million dollar apartment. Gaines wasn’t going to be a problem, after all, he was me and I was him. I had the upper hand with the God Principle on my side while Gaines might as well have been Abe Goldbladder of the Satanic Principle. I will discuss that more in my presentation to the New Serapion Brethren.
I was inside my skull with Gaines but my mind had cleared up, I might as well get started.
‘So, Gaines, what brings you here?’ A silly question because I already knew the answer. Still, in order to extinguish him I had to play along. However I did think it necessary to call in my old psycho-analyst Dr. Anton Polarion as an assist.
Who is Dr. Anton? I’m embarrassed to say this because then you might think I really am crazy. But that’s alright, I may be.
Dr. Anton Polarion came around several years ago when I was deep in my psychological studies. I was working a number of fields of study and I needed someone to handle the psychology for me when I was working another field. It was then I thought up Dr. Anton giving him the responsibility for memorizing and developing psychology.
I know it sounds kind of crazy but it’s not. Dr. Anton was and is a memory aide. If you read up on the art of memory you will learn that in Greek and Roman times people constructed memory palaces of many rooms extensively furnished and then assigned memories to various rooms and objects in order to more conveniently record them, prodigious feats of memory are recorded. Oh alright, but I wasn’t going to wander around a Memory Palace trying to find various rooms and objects with their assigned memories so I just handed the job to an imagined Dr. Anton rather than a Memory Palace. You can understand that can’t you? Seems reasonable enough to me but you never know what other people will think. Anyway Dr. Anton knows whereof he speaks. So when it comes to hearing voices it was now two to one against Gaines and I had another Ace or two up my sleeve.
I was loaded for bear and I was sure I could kick Gaines’ ass. Still, I had to hear Gaines out.
‘So Gaines, as I said, what brings you here?’
‘I’ve got some good advice for you,’ said Gaines.
‘Knowing who you are Gaines I doubt it could be good.’
‘Oh ho, you think you know who I am do you? Who am I?’
‘This will take some time Gaines but you’ve got as much as I do. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Your showing up here, now, puts things in place. I’m going to call in Dr. Anton for support. You know who he is don’t you Gaines?’
‘Of course, of course. I know as well as you know me. Hello Anton, welcome to the conversation.’
Anton: Hello Gaines. Well, let’s get started.
Partly: The key here is the Orphanage and me sitting on the back step reading Tales From The Crypt. That was one sado-masochistic piece Gaines with a certain portrayal of women. Strangely that portrayal was reminiscent of my mother. It is between you and my mother that this psychology revolves around.
Anton: Yes, your mother transferred her hatred of your father to you after she had put him away and tried to destroy any happiness for you. It is no coincidence that after she had your father committed to the asylum she committed you to the Orphanage. Of course, she had ‘good reasons’ for doing so but they weren’t the real reasons. When you turned eighteen she thought she had you again, enlisting you in the Navy and having you shipped off somewhere where she would never have to see you to remind her of her crime against your father. Thus the association of your mother, sado-masochism and Gaines.
Gaines also provides your connection to the Jews although that application came later in life. The content of Gaines’ comics, the sado-masochism, is part of the Jewish Weltanschauung that Freud expressed so well and it is that that Judaicized you, making the Jewish culture part of your own. It is that part, this Satanic consciousness that drags your spirit down causing your chronic low depression. We’ll try to shake it here but it may now be integral to your mentality.
Leaving Gaines for a moment the pre-Gaines component was your mother’s extreme selfishness. Of course your mother was three months gone when she married your father. This didn’t create so much guilt as anger. She held your father responsible preventing her from doing whatever she thought she would be doing later. You were born in 1938 in the depths of the Great Depression.
Jobs were not easy to come by and although your father was a good provider, that is you had a roof over your head and a shack to live in, even so your father ran out of jobs so he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps and went to work planting forests. He was a good man; he sent most of his money to your mother. She unfortunately as you would learn was not a good woman.
It is difficult at this point to retrieve her motivation but she got laid in the back of a Chevrolet in the parking lot of a grocery store as you know well, Perry. She became pregnant with the little bastard palmed off to you as your brother. A child of sin he has always remained so. A point came where the pregnancy could no longer be concealed.
Needless to say the realization made your father angry. In an attempt to learn the culprit he began to punch her out. In the way of women she was stout refusing to give up his name. Your father said things like ‘I am out working CCC to provide for you and you’re out, words that were unintelligible to you. Do you remember that Partly?
Partly: Yes I do.
Anton: Less than two and half and you remember! What a memory Perry. The bastard was born, your father left and you saw him only once more several months later. Do you know what happened to him?
Me: No. Never saw him again after that last time.
Dr. Anton: Your mother had him committed to the insane asylum and he lived there all his life and died there.
Gaines: Wait a minute, wait a minute. You can’t know anything he doesn’t Anton. Where’s this coming from?
Dr. Anton: Just as you have been suppressed until now Gaines so has the knowledge I’m now revealing. It came in bits and pieces and I have put it all together. Partly is just now realizing it.
Where was I? Yes, committing him was a sadistic act on the part of a guilty woman. But it didn’t stop there Partly. To assuage her guilt while indulging her sadism she had removed her husband but you, a reminder of her crime, remained. She transferred her affection to her bastard and set out to torture and frustrate you. You remember the nightmares you had in high school where your mother was constantly betraying you? That was a subconscious recognition of what you wouldn’t allow yourself to acknowledge but still you knew.
The Orphanage was just four blocks from your grandparents house where you were living. She had to know the effect it would have on your mentality, you certainly did, but just as she had put her husband away in an asylum she put his memory away in another institution, the Orphanage.
Do you remember this Partly?
Me: Sure Anton, I remember but not as clearly and well organized as you do.
Dr. Anton: You’d be a better man for learning it although at eighty who gives a shit. You’ll take it to your grave soon enough.
Me: That’s alright Anton, I’ll die, as you say, a better man.
Anton: So your mother dropped you off and you were led away just like in prison or the asylum but with slightly better conditions. And thus you began to become who you used to be before your personality integration that introduced this current phase of your life at forty-two.
You became quite independent in that harrowing situation of the Orphanage. Fate left that copy of Tales From The Crypt lying on that little porch and a pain equal to your being abandoned seared your soul again striking through your subconscious to the structural level here. You were no longer a free man but controlled from, for lack of a better term, your subconscious. I don’t know how you made it through but here you are.
Your mother’s remarriage to the maniac Chuckles who was a match for your mother’s sadism nearly destroyed you during those eight long years until graduation. Enough of that for now. Let’s deal with Gaines here.
Me: Can we get rid of him?
Gaines: Hell no!
Dr. Anton: He is unfortunately part of the warp and woof of your personality but I’m pretty certain we can modify it and reduce his Satanic level considerably.
Gaines: Over my dead body.
Dr. Anton: Preferably Gaines, that is what we’re shooting for.
With that I collapsed back into my pillow exhausted but calmer with less of a feverish feeling. I was breathing somewhat heavily. I knew that this was a significant psychological event that had not yet achieved resolution and I was afraid to lose the thread. After about an hour Dr. Polarion returned. Anton was not an alter ego as Gaines but functioned more as a guardian angel, a good spirit so I welcomed him.
‘We’ve got to handle Gaines Partly.’
‘Yes. What is your suggestion Anton?’
‘This. It seems that Gaines is functioning as a node for a constellation of similar events. The two obvious strands of the constellation are he, that is your Jewish experience, and your mother. The first step must be to disentangle your mother and put her into her own constellation to be dealt with later. You already have a decent handle on her.
That leaves Gaines and your Jewish experience which is a distinct constellation which when knowledgeable about it you’ve done a lot a preparatory groundwork but certain resolutions are still necessary. That constellation has to be distended into its planetary elements so that each can be identified and dispensed with.
In addition there may be other elements concealed within or behind the constellation of which we have yet no knowledge. Time will tell.
And then there is what Gaines wants you to do which is why he’s made his appearance now. We’ll have to listen and go from there. You and I do understand that what he wants is going to be ridiculous and dangerous.
Me: OK Anton, your analysis is good and I do have a good idea what Gaines wants; I’ve also got my arguments ready and can direct him. But, God, this is painful.
Anton: Yes Partly, self-realization can be trying and I’m sure you’re in agony. You remember Hubert Selby the fellow who wrote his novel Last Exit To Brooklyn?
Me: Oh sure, Anton. Very interesting story. He was probing his mind to write his story. That once when he came up against a particularly painful remembrance it shattered him so that he had to take to his bed for a week writhing in agony. I can’t afford the time for that now. I have things to do and fields to plow.
Anton: You may have more than you think Partly. Get some rest and I’ll get Gaines back here in an hour or so. Control your feelings.
With images of Jekyll and Hyde in my fitful dreams was the titanic struggle of the Shadow with evil and the images of Superman and Clark Kent. Good must triumph over evil although it might not be as clear cut a victory as one might hope.
Just before dawn Dr. Polarion returned and shortly thereafter I heard Gaines’ Hello, I’m here.
Me: Alright Gaines. I’m ready.
Anton had already disentangled my mother from the constellational complex so he and I were dealing with just the Gaines/Jewish constellation. In that obscured constellation other traumas wouldn’t be clear at this time.
‘What’s up Gaines?’ Anton asked quietly with an implied menace that he wasn’t going to listen to nonsense.
Gaines: Why so hostile Doctor Polarion.
Anton: We know what you’re up to Gaines. I have to tell you that we know who you are and where you’ve come from so your Satanic power is negated.
Gaines: Oh, aren’t we clever. What is my pedigree Dr. Polarion?
Anton: Simply this: You infected Partly’s mind on that stoop of the Orphanage with your sado-masochistic claptrap. Partly only semi-consciously took in the sado-masochistic sexuality without knowledge of sex, he had to repress your Satanic influence and with some few exceptions he did. As he knew nothing of Jews and your own Jewishness that puzzling aspect of your Satanity was filed away for future reference. In the meantime following Jewish propaganda he was conditioned to revere Jews and did so.
Then in winter of nineteen fifty-eight in a fit of sado-masochistic lunacy the Jews pre-empted all TV channels at the same time on Saturday prime time and broadcast the most incredible pornographic sado-masochistic program imaginable. An hour of graphic snuff films depicting naked dead bodies being pushed about by bulldozers. The sexual implications were horrendous. While secretly fascinated Partly was resentful of the Jews for pushing this atrocity on him. Without articulating it to himself he was fatally disgusted. Also without noticing it he associated the ‘entertainment’ with you Gaines.
Gaines: I’m disgusting?
Anton: Eminently. Now, there comes an incident that was let slip by almost without recognition. Partly’s wife, now deceased, came from a Jewish background on her mother’s side; the father was nominally Catholic. The mother wanted a Jewish wedding while fearing that Partly would object. The venue was unimportant to Partly, in fact, with his Jewish conditioning he got a little thrill from it.
However to the Jews the notion that a Jewish girl would marry a, what they considered Christian boy, was anathema to them. Her parents approached all the synagogues in the East Bay but there was only one Rabbi in the East Bay that would consent to marry the couple. This was brought about by the intervention of his wife’s mother’s sister whose family was a prominent supporter of the synagogue. Even so the rabbi insisted on an interview with Partly.
As I say, Gaines, Partly had no religious scruples to marrying into a religious family, not quite true, he would never have married Catholic, and thought to be amiable with the rabbi. Both Partly and his wife were above religion despising them as relics from a primitive age. While Partly tried to be amiable the rabbi didn’t. Partly talked to the rabbi man to man while the rabbi as all rabbis do exalted his position believing as a Talmudic scholar that that worthless information placed him not only above Partly or his fellow Jews but all humanity and most of the angels. Resenting Partly’s familiarity he insulted Partly grievously as not worthy of a Jewish girl while being a Christian dog or words to that effect. At that point his respect for the Jews, intense conditioning or no, vanished.
This event was constellated with you Gaines and the TV atrocity to negate any positive feeling he had for the Jews. A couple decades of propaganda was wiped out in an instant. Partly’s future unpleasant relations with Jews will appear subsequently.
So that’s who you are Gaines. Satan on a stick.
Gaines: Yeah, well Dr. Polarion I know where Partly lives. I know he has suffered insults, injuries and indignities from many quarters including the ones you mentioned and I know this: He wants revenge. Who do you go to when you want revenge? Satan, baby, Satan. And here I am.
Anton: True, Partly?
Me: No. It’s true I have a lot of resentments but they’re from assholes and assholes can’t help being assholes; if they could they wouldn’t be assholes so one has to ignore them. It’s their cross to bear and I enjoy watching them be assholes. If Gaines thinks he’s going to lure me into criminal activity he’s not here.
Gaines: Kiss my ass Partly. Social unrest is developing rapidly, exponentially day to day. There are hundreds of racial and religious, what the authorities are pleased to call murders rather than the acts of war they are happening every week.
I know Partly that you were trained by your experiences to be a serial killer. You know it. I don’t know how you’ve resisted up to this time but now is the time to indulge those resentments. Not only are the cops overburdened trying to deal with all the killing and raping going on but they’re afraid to leave the station. Whole cities are no go zones for them. They’ll never identify you, never track you down. Come on buddy, let your inner Mr. Hyde see some light. Now’s the time for your revenge.
Me: I think you’re right about the time being the right time Gaines but remember that Vengeance is mine saith the Lord. I’ve learned that it is true.
Gaines: Vengeance is mine saith the Lord? Listen to this guy. Are you putting me on Partly?
Me: Certainly not Gaines, certainly not. Remember you were kicked out of heaven for the religious offence of chutzpah. God stuck his boot up your ass and down you came. You always tempt men to their destruction by exploiting their own weaknesses. If I were to act in revenge I would surely be caught. Even at eighty I don’t want to be thought of as a criminal.
Gaines: No, you don’t want to be thought of as a criminal. Here’s a tip for you Partly…
Gaines: You stay out of this Anton, this is between Partly and me.
As above, so below, right Partly? God’s will is supposed to prevail on earth as in heaven, right?
Me: I’m not religious but the Bible does say so. What’s your point?
Gaines: As a lawbreaker I was kicked out of heaven, right. If so, then it is God’s will that I be persecuted on earth also, isn’t it?
Me: Well, you have to believe the Bible.
Gaines: No, you don’t. Freud replaced the Bible but as a Jew he follows the Bible’s rhetoric. Freud and I are one and not only am I part of your mind but Freud is too. That’s one of my attributes that Anton the so-called psychologist forgot to mention. So, if it is God’s will that it is to be on earth as it is in heaven then it is permissible to punish Satanic practices as he punished me isn’t it? As a God fearing person it is imperative that you do so.
Well, there was a thought. The Jews consider themselves God’s viceroys on Earth and that they are doing God’s will by forcing his, or theirs really on the rest of mankind, punishing those who resist, that is anti-Semites. It was a tough argument to counter while Gaines had cleverly appealed to my suppressed desires. Anton was no help at this point.
Me: To punish is vengeance Gaines and as I say Vengeance is the Lord’s. Therefore I cannot punish Gaines, however there is the question of justice, lawbreakers should not be allowed the fruit of their crimes with impunity.
As we know God has no temporal means to effect his will on earth so he must use intermediaries as his chosen vessels hence the Jews claim to be that vessel. However if God spoke to the Jews then he can speak to me. Thus if like Saint Augustine I were to hear his voice enjoining me to administer His justice on earth as he does in heaven, that is kicking Satan off the earth then I could obey his will and be judge, jury and executioner here on earth as the Jews consider themselves. Well, Gaines, that is a thought I will have to give consideration.
Gaines: Yes it is. Further…
Anton: Hold, hold it, stop Gaines. Be gone. Hold up Partly, we have to think about this. Later Gaines, later. Go.
And with a sly wink at me Gaines wandered away. He would be back, of course. But he had given me something to think about. I knew I was going to think about it too and as Gaines knew I would rationalize his suggestion into reality but only in a ‘legal’ manner.
Anton just looked at me and shook his head. He knew what was coming. So did I but neither of us could as yet admit it.
Once again I lay back exhausted. Still I had to get to work. In an agitated state of mind I reviewed the correcting of my piece for the New Serapion Brethren that I was titling The Vampyres Of New York. I had put some preliminary thoughts up on the internet so I was searching Vampyres Of New York when I was startled to find that there was an actual group called The Vampyres Of New York that claimed to be a worldwide organization. Its spokesman was some guy calling himself Father Sebastian. He was a young guy who would have been further ahead claiming to be Brother Sebastian; in another thirty years he might pass for a father.
Anything associating itself with vampirism had to be Satanic while the guy was absolutely touting himself as a religion. The crude Satanism of the nineteen sixties was obviously morphing into an attempt at a universal religion. This was a far cry from the historian Arnold Toynbee’s cry for a new universal religion to replace Christianity. Gaines was obviously right about the Satanism in Freud being a part of me but apparently the drive was to make Freudianism the basis of a new religion. Thus as Christianity as a Jewish based religion had represented the Godly Principle so Freud as a Jewish based religion would represent the Satanic Principle.
This was a revelation to me that while new I would have to try to work into my essay. I had to think about it a little so while I was thinking I tinkered around working out disguises. Having seen street activity for a couple weeks now I was uneasy walking around in my own skin; I didn’t want to become that well known.
So, as I thought I tried out mustaches, wigs, glasses, different outfits, so I could walk the streets so as not to become obvious. But, time was passing and I was driven back to my writing desk. I wanted to avoid Gaines as long as possible so I put in some long sessions hoping I would be so tired when I went to sleep that that bastard Gaines wouldn’t be called up. I was successful for the week left before going to Farquhar’s.
I was a day ahead of the deadline so I went out to get a couple two or three bottles of wine to take along. Wanted to show I was a regular guy. I am a regular guy but usually not that regular. Boy, NYC is an alkie’s paradise. What a fabulous selection of spirits. I don’t drink much but in my earlier days I could do a limited justice to the bottle. In those days I favored brandy. Really good stuff if you’re going to drink. Oh lord, if I had known then what New York showed my now I might have been the man who never returned.
I wasn’t after liquor though I wanted wine so I asked for and got bottles of Ramey’s Claret. Ramey is a good Napa Valley vintner while his claret is moderately priced and more than good enough, excellent in fact. The vintage was 2014 that particularly dry year and of small berries. Excellent, I thought it should go over. I’d had it before and it really is a great vintage.
For dress I wore a 1960 vintage sport coat I bought at a second hand store. Nothing was ready at James Carter and I had tried Lord and Taylor and other stores but none was showing other than those idiotic short jackets cut small and I thought I looked a heck of a lot better. Charles Tyrwhitt shirt, one of their higher priced dark blue and white mini stripes, black in a low light. So what’s a boy to do? Ralph Lauren had turned ludicrous after he left.
Ragnar drove me and my bottles of wine up to fifty-second street off Madison to Farquhar’s condo, very good, twelfth floor. As I entered the building an explosion went off maybe three blocks away in some direction I couldn’t determine. Somebody was acting up, hard to tell who. It was beginning to happen fairly regularly. Cops weren’t catching anybody. So many people and organizations were claiming credit for these things it must have been a nightmare investigating these things using only electronics.
As these things were getting more frequent they didn’t even make the headlines in New York while except for certain sites on the internet the rest of the country was totally ignorant of them. The permanent Obama administration was still trying to explain them away as the work of domestic terrorists, actually by now the terrorists were domestic although not so-called White Supremacists. If by Global terrorists it was only just that we should be bombed as was said and that brought the thought of Gaines back as Lessing was rattling the locks on the other side of the door.
Once that ritual was completed I was admitted into a small foyer with a second door and a number of locks which were only locked at night or when Lessing was away. The door was now open for which I was grateful.
Through the second door one entered directly into a large living room, perhaps eight hundred square feet cutting straight through the apartment to the floor to ceiling windows that looked into the windows across the street unfortunately.
The room was comfortably decorated with expensive furniture but not the costliest. The usual New York abstracts, tasteful, were on the wall facing lovely floor to ceiling bookshelves admirably stocked. Books do furnish a room, don’t they?
I was the last to arrive. Seated, looking at me with expectant bemused expressions were Max Savings, Mark Giusty and Baron Cammell the other members of the New Serapion Brethren. Lessing was apparently a bachelor or, as I was to find, a widower.
As I could see I was the oldest of the four. Lessing was seventy-two but still in his prime. How well I remember being fourteen and finding the age of seventy incomprehensible as young people still do. While even people in their thirties and forties expect people of seventy or eighty to be decrepit. Most of us aren’t. Certainly Lessing and I were in full vigor. Diet helps, three or four years earlier I had been compelled to give up my sugar diet, and I mean I love sugar, and that and an improved diet recharged me considerably.
Lessing was more robust than I being taller, probably six-two and bigger boned. He was filled out but not fat or even heavy looking, his face like mine was unlined while he had a full head of white hair as did I although mine was removable and his wasn’t. He showed a little surprise as I was nearly bald at our two previous encounters.
Lessing introduced me to Max Savings who was small, perhaps five-six, and slight. Max was the youngest at sixty-two. He was dressed like an undertaker, had a slightly weasely face with a pointed nose. He had a sharp intelligence.
Marc Giusty was Italian standing a half inch or so below me, seventy years old, still athletic looking, spent a couple hours a day in the gym as I was to learn, lean and long headed in the Italian manner, thin mustache and good features.
Last to be introduced was Baron Cammell. Baron was his first name and not a title. He would prove to be the most difficult member of the group for me.
By the time I was finished with the introductions Max had a bottle of claret open and the glasses filled. Well, you know, two fingers. One sips, this was a cultured group no full water glasses at one gulp. We accepted our glasses and looking at each other took a sip.
Lessing: Oh, very nice.
Marc: Yes. Haven’t seen the label before.
Baron: (Sniffing slightly.) Yes, quite distinctive.
Max: (Smiling.) Enough said.
Me: Yes, well, Ramey apprenticed for many years in France before setting up in Napa. I like Bordeaux style blend and claret hits the spot for me after reading all those old English novels where claret and wine were synonymous. I like this one. So, we’re all ETA Hoffmann admirers, um?
Lessing: Yes, we are that. By way of curiosity Perry, how did you come to Hoffmann.
Me: Oh, you want my origin story as the comic books say? OK Lessing, I’ve got one. I’ll do this in the best comic book style. It was a dark and stormy day back in the middle of the last century when a thirty-six year man shoulders hunched against the cold and rain looked into a shop window. Perceiving it was a book store he being a bibliophile pushed the door open. A blast of warm air hit him as heads turned to look at the stranger. The man glanced casually about at the few inside, mostly help, with no particular object in mind. His attention was caught by a slip cased set of two. Always a sucker for so-called special editions he picked it up to examine it. ‘Hmm…’ he mused to himself, ‘Selected Writings Of Hoffmann? Hoffmann who?’ Extracted, Vol. I read from the title page, E.T.A. Hoffmann The Tales. The man had heard of ETA Hoffmann spoken of most highly and of course he knew of Offenbach’s opera Tales Of Hoffmann. Twelve dollars and fifty cents. OK.
Tucking the parcel under his arm under his coat and lowering his head against the blast he proceeded down the street. I was that man.
Me: There you go Lessing and an identical copy can be found on your bookshelf right over there.
Ha, ha, ha came as a chorus from the four men: Nicely done, Perry, nicely done.
‘The lad shows promise, doesn’t he?’ said Lessing.
Max Savings: This could prove interesting.
Me: And since then then I’ve added a dozen volumes filling out, I think, what’s available in English except for that magnificent nineteenth century volume you have on your shelf.’
Lessing: That one. I’m quite proud of that find. I tramped London looking for that one. But you have never reviewed Hoffmann on your site Perry, how come?
Me. I don’t feel adequately prepared Lessing. I have added a number of Romantic writers to my library in the last four years, Kleist, Tieck and like that but nothing in the way of critical reviews so I don’t think I’m prepared to speak authoritatively. And I still have to read Goethe, the key Romantic. If you’ve read my stuff you probably are aware that I speak without concern of contradiction. I can’t do that with Hoffmann yet. So, if I may ask, give me a thumbnail of yourselves.
Lessing: I’m host so I might as well go first. The salient point is that I spent my career practicing law, mainly real estate and financial issues. That is an area where much of the money sticks to the lawyer and I am in a comfortable situation as you can see having made my share or more of the money stick to me. Although remunerative I found the law and its cases fairly loathsome so as soon as I felt financially independent I left all that behind and turned my attention to what I loved much as you have Perry. Much more rewarding.
Max Savings: I’m not quite so financially independent as Lessing and still at my desk at Chase. I certainly am not so accomplished literarily as you and Lessing but I squeeze in time in an effort to keep up.
Marc Giusty: I was a university prof all my working life, loved it at Columbia uptown here. History was my subject. Unfortunately I was just a yeoman and not a star. I wrote a few papers for academic publications and a couple slim volumes that disappeared down the memory hole but allowed me to keep my position. By the way, this is a nice wine.
Me: Glad I chose to your taste. And you Baron.
Baron: I’m somewhat of a polymath, expert in several fields. I’m working on a unified field theory to arrange the liberal arts in a chronology with commentary. That’s all you need know of me.
Me: Quite so, quite so. Now that we’ve been introduced and had a little wine what say I begin my presentation? I’m anxious for your opinion and hope to please.
Lessing: That sounds right. What is the title of your presentation Perry?
Me: I call it The Vampyres Of New York.
I noticed a little uneasiness in the Brethren at the title. Lessing spoke:
Is this a vampire story, Perry? I thought the understanding was that we present historical essays.
Me: Exactly Lessing. But lesser known aspects, other sides so to speak and that is what mine is. Don’t let the title throw you. By the way as you’re not looking at the paper I spell vampire v-a-m-p-y-r-e. I chose the spelling to indicate a difference from a Dracula type blood vampire. My essay will concern what is known as psychic vampires. When I was searching Vampyres Of New York on the internet to see if my first couple of posts had registered yet I was surprised to find that there is actually an organization called The Vampyres Of New York, spelled with a Y.
I was further astonished that it claims to be worldwide although the claim seems a little dubious. At any rate the possible leader is a guy calling himself Father Sebastian who divides his time between New York and Paris.
As you know since the first Disney version of Star Wars a recent religion has sprung up based on the concept of the Force and whatever. It seems probable that the Vampyre organization is a type of Satanic religion too. This brings to mind that after the challenge to the Jewish religion in the West after the Scientific Revolution following the Enlightenment the Western Jewish religion under the Scientific challenge dissolved into a number of splinter religions seeking a center. The center of course came from the East and was called Zionism so that Judaism with some atavism and Zion are one.
Christianity has taken longer to find a new center but under the influence of nineteenth and twentieth century Satanism we may be seeing a jelling into some form of a universal Satanic religion. It is something to bear in mind. So my historical investigation is concerned with the Jewish and Christian religious disintegration of the previous two centuries under some sort of vampiric influence. Is that alright? It won’t offend any sensibilities?
Lessing: If it is historical we have no objections.
Me: Alright. I’m pretty sure this will be a different approach to what you’re used to so I have a prologue explaining the difference between a Dracula type Vampirism and psychic Vampyrism which will concern us. This is longish but not hugely long so fill your glasses and sit back. It is written out so feel free to interrupt at any time for explanations or comments, discussions or whatever.
OK? I begin: The Vampyres Of New York.
Clip 4 following contains the text of Vampyres Of New York.
December 12, 2015
The Vampyres Of New York
Part I, Clip 2
The story continues…
As I say some sort of subconscious stirring had drawn me to New York. When I first walked into James Carter I felt stirring in my brain but now there was a deeper agitation foreboding a brain change. At my age, of course, there was always something happening, your body diminishes a bit while mental adjustments are constant but this felt more like a sea change, a premonition of a brain crunch, going in one door and coming out another.
Over the past decade or so I had had three major crises. The first was the strongest, a tremendous electrical discharge at the top of the frontal lobe. My whole power train from brain to genitals lit up, transparent as it were, I had no means to evaluate it nor was I aware of any changes in my behavior.
The second occurred a few year later, the electrical discharge was not so strong only flashing from my heart. Something had changed but I couldn’t tell what. The third that happened was only a couple years ago just before my wife died but only disalienating however I did then notice some personality changes as bits and pieces of personality fell into place. I had greater self-confidence and a bit more forceful personality, I lost my usual diffidence that had been diminishing I now noticed from the first two events.
They say that coming events cast a shadow before them. In my case that has to be true because I began to ruminate on the notion of dual personalities. I do not mean split personality but dual personality, twins of a sort, both aware of each other, nothing hidden from each. Biologically speaking the physical structure is made up of two halves, from two separate identities. That is the sperm and ovum come together to form one organism, two different and unrelated strands of DNA and the two strands retain separate identities as the brain retains two separate halves joined by another organ, the corpus collosum, that allows communication between the two halves.
At some time in the distant past a predecessor organism contained all four sex chromosomes, XXXy, but when sex evolved dividing chromosome in two the male received one X and the y while the female received the other two Xs, but the three Xs are not identical. So, the male has an X passive right side and the active sperm left side of the brain, hence the celebrated feminine side to the male personality.
The female has an active X from the sperm and passive X from the ovum.
The psychoanalysts Freud and Jung at the beginning of the twentieth century then named the ovum side of the brain the Anima and the left the Animus. So really the individual whether male or female has the elements of a dual personality.
This fact has always been recognized being frequently portrayed in literature although usually unconsciously. The first representation, although the exponents weren’t aware of the source was the opposition of God and Satan, Good vs. Evil impulses. There was a conflict between the wish to be good and the reality of being evil. This was a psychological problem that had to be explained; thus the serpent in the Garden of Eden story and also that of Lucifer being kicked out of heaven. Thus early civilized man explored the nature of psychology.
Certainly in my early life the whole notion of God and Satan was relegated to the realm of fable. By the beginning of the nineteenth century in the Western world and the Western world only biology became a source of explanation thus the story of ETA Hoffmann, The Princess Brambilla that is a discussion of the Anima and Animus.
Perhaps the most famous dual personality story of the nineteenth century was Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde. A story that concerns two aspects of the Animus. In Stevenson’s story Dr. Jekyll has suppressed a wild aspect of his Animus by emphasizing a respectable persona that he needed to succeed in the world as a physician. However Jekyll longed for the rough and rowdy days of his youth represented by the other person of Mr. Hyde. Hyde, to say the least, was uncivilized.
The repression of Hyde was so strong that Jekyll couldn’t indulge him. This being the golden age of science, while Jekyll was the experimental sort, he discovered a potion or drug that temporarily released the Hyde persona of his Animus or Ego. This was fine except for with each repeated dosage Hyde become more obstreperous finally indulging his passions in murder. He was on his way to becoming a serial killer.
Now with police hot on his trail Hyde took the antidote to turn himself back into Jekyll but alas he found the little abyss back too wide to jump over. He had become his opposite.
Stevenson’s little novelette became one of the most influential books of the twentieth century. Without fully understanding it the cat was out of the bag although it came in many different colors.
Perhaps one of the most interesting investigations was that proposed by the American writer, the great Edgar Rice Burroughs. He created one of the fundamental characters of the twentieth century, the great man beast, Tarzan Of The Apes.
Burroughs himself was entranced by Stevenson’s Jekyll and Hyde. The idea of a dual personality had a great appeal to him. Of course the novelette was new at the time presenting a startling idea. Psychology, specifically psycho-analysis, presented startling findings to the public that had to be absorbed but couldn’t or wouldn’t be absorbed for fifty years or more and then by the chosen few. Burroughs also had a great interest in psychology.
Concurrent with these developments was the newly risen conflict between civilization and the primitive with their conflicting demands on the perplexed mind of humanity. The notion was, especially propounded by the anthropologist James G. Frazer in his multi-volume The Golden Bough was his vision that the primitive mind was overlain only by ‘a thin veneer of civilization.’ Scratch a civilized man and the primitive beast beneath would emerge, not too unlike Jekyll and Hyde.
Influencing Burroughs alongside these was Darwin’s theory of evolution. Mixed and shaken well what came out of Burrough’s mind was Tarzan of the Apes.
As a ‘true’ story of course the novel is preposterous. Generally speaking the literati rejected the novel for its obvious impossibility refusing to see the allegory of the times which it was. The story is beautiful in a mythological way.
Tarzan was a thoroughly divided man just as was his model Stephenson’s Jekyll and Hyde. No less preposterous I might add. If you set a matrix over the two stories they are the same. Burroughs himself had two personalities and he believed that all people did to a greater or lesser degree, correctly as it would seem.
Thus Tarzan or John Clayton, Lord Greystoke to give him his real name and title was born an English aristocrat on a voyage to Africa. Pirates seized their ship depositing them on the coast of Gabon just below the falls of the Congo. A tribe of great apes, more resembling the Missing Link than any known species assaulted the homestead of the man, wife and child castaways killing the mother and father. The son would have been killed by the great bull ape except that a female named Kala who had just lost an infant snatched the babe from the cradle running away with it and defying anyone to harm it.
Thus the human Tarzan became a feral child raised as a beast among the Great Apes without acquiring the thin veneer of civilization. However an Englishman to the bone, a member of the greatest race of the human species, was always an Englishman no matter what the circumstances. His parents humble but well constructed cabin weathers the elements for a decade or so until Tarzan discovers it and enters to find it well supplied with children’s books thoughtfully brought by his expectant real mother. He thus discovers that he is not a funny looking ape but something else altogether. As the picture showed a boy and conveniently put the letters B-O-Y beneath it cleverly putting picture to type or two and two make four as we say he learned that the was a boy.
Teaching himself to read using the convenient dictionary his pop brought along he acquires the thinnest veneer of civilization. Probably learned chemical formulae from dad’s convenient chemistry text book although that is mere speculation on my part. At that point he acquired a dual personality. He was both a beast and a semi-civilized man. However he prefers the skimpiest loin cloth with tails hanging down front and back to the most luxurious tuxedo.
That’s the way Edgar Rice Burroughs rewrote Stephenson’s Jekyll and Hyde while integrating the latest and most advanced ideas of his times. Altogether an excellent intellectual achievement.
Stephenson’s idea wasn’t exhausted by Burroughs’ treatment. Indeed, the idea became a staple of at least pulp literature. I’m not going to trouble you with an exhaustive study but here’s a few highlights that are very interesting. The idea of the hero with a day job and an after dark avocation had taken root.
We have The Shadow of Maxwell Grant. Not just a couple dozen novels as with Burroughs’ Tarzan but well over three hundred of them. Grant was a magician. No, really. He was a practicing magician, as such he undoubtedly had an interest in hypnotism. Grant said that The Shadow had the power to cloud men’s minds so that he was invisible. That’s hypnotism and there are many more evidences in the novels.
As with Burroughs’ Tarzan some fans come from print others through other media. By 1930 when The Shadow appears the other media includes, movies, radio and comics that had come into existence. However the characters created by the movies and other media were much different than what issued from the minds of Burroughs or Grant. (Real name Walter Gibson.)
Thus Grant’s Shadow is composed of interesting dualities. On the macro level The Shadow represents the Godly mind while the evil criminals he destroys are in the Satanic mold. The Shadow might even be construed as Godliness’ last stand. The Satanic model would increase in dominance until in 1966 Time Magazine blazoned its cover in black and white with the question Is God Dead? That was quite shocking tearing the fabric of society.
In that same year the Jew Ira Levin published his novel Rosemary’s Baby telling of the birth of Satan’s child, Little Andy. The novel was followed by the Jew Roman Polanski’s horrific film of the same name in 1968 as the Satanic side of the human mind replaced the Godly. From Rosemary’s Baby flowed the Charles Manson murders. It’s been hell since.
On the micro level The Shadow himself was the alter ego of a man named Kent Allard who in vampire fashion assumed the identity of Lamont Cranston. We at the time knew only of the radio Shadow and Cranston. In the novel Allard faked his death in South America removing all traces of his existence. Returning to New York he terrorized his lookalike Lamont Cranston into allowing Allard to operate in his identity while sending Cranston overseas. Thus by day Cranston was a playboy around town and at night he was The Shadow, a vigilante fighting evil. It seems that it would be difficult to be a playboy without a nightlife but Allard/Cranston managed it. The Shadow is an integral part of my own mentality, perhaps in opposition to the evil William C. Gaines.
By the late thirties Burroughs and Grant were spawning all kinds of imitators. While comic strips in newspapers had existed since the turn of the century comic books came into existence in the mid-thirties giving whole new dimensions to the dual personality. Comic books as we know them were created by the character Superman in 1938 first in Action Comics and then in his own name.
The comic book was wholly a creation of Jewish talents pushing a Jewish agenda. As such, whether we knew it or not the comics reflected the Jewish view of life or Weltanschauung. The Jews have been described as a peculiar people and indeed their history confirms the evaluation. The Kent Allard/Lamont Cranston/Shadow triumvirate more or less sums up the Jewish experience.
Twentieth Century US experience in which I lived most of my life was one of discovery for me. In my childhood that followed the death camps of WWII I never actually knew a Jew as a Jew. Like Kent Allard they had merged into a new disguise that for a novice or even experienced person was extremely difficult to penetrate. I knew they existed because I read about them and there was a synagogue in one of the most conspicuous places in town while the only Jew that identified as a Jew was called Sheeny Sheyer and he was a haberdasher. Beyond that I scarcely knew Jews existed until the really big 1958 Holocaust fest show. That was my introduction. Since then, of course, Judaism has been one of the central thread of my studies.
Jews have developed the dual identity into an art form. As the saying goes: Sometimes they don’t know who they are.
As they are living in other people’s countries, since 1800 they have tried to adapt by adopting local haberdashery while adopting personal names in the local manner. Of course in mid-nineteenth century European population pressures compelled the State to order their peoples to assume last names, just as in our day population pressures have forced the adoption of a unique number to identify the specific individual. Thus there might be umpteen John Smiths in the US but you have to have the right number to identify your John Smith.
In the Jewish case a man might have gone by the name of Isaac Ben Abraham, that is Isaac, the son of Abraham. Under the new system he had to choose a last name. The Jews usually named themselves after articles of value or distinction. Hence all the variants of Gold, Silver and precious stones. Isaac Ben Abraham might become Isaac Goldbladder or Isaac Silvermaster or, Perhaps Heinrich Heine. Going into the twentieth century then all Westerners had a first and last name and any number of intervening names their parents might choose.
As most of these names were either German or Russian upon coming to the US many chose to translate the name into English; thus Sumner Rothstein became Sumner Redstone. Sumner itself being considered an assimilative name. David and Michael are the most popular Jewish first names. Some, like Edward G. Robinson the actor, anglicized their name more completely, his European name being Emmanuel Goldenberg (Gold Mountain.) Behind that not unlike Lamont Cranston who might have been Kent Allard was a Hebrew name and that was his real identity. So a Jew automatically had a dual identity, his public name by which he was known at large and the name with which he was registered as a Jew.
On might say then that he was always in disguise in the broad world, a secret foreign agent reporting, as it were, to the synagogue. His people came first before his ‘adopted’ country. This is a source of much confusion to non-Jews while Jews lie when they say their ‘adopted’ country is their first loyalty. Interesting that they adopt a country but the country doesn’t adopt them.
When comic books were developed in the mid-thirties they were almost exclusively Jewish hence expressing the Jewish Weltanschauung. All the characters had dual identities.
Thus Superman migrated from the planet Krypton and ‘adopted’ Earth as his chosen planet. His Krypton identity was Superman while his earthly identity was the wimpish Clark Kent. Capt. America was the Jewish identity while Steve Rogers was his goyish identity. And this continued with the comic book characters Batman and Robin identities.
Now, the Jew has always felt inferior to the other; Cain was the big strong other while Abel was the lesser younger brother. Clark Kent was a weak human while the Jewish Superman was a powerful extra-terrestrial. Steve Rogers was a 98 lb. weakling while Capt. America while lacking true super powers certainly outperformed human beings.
The creators of these characters mostly anglicized their names, Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, but not all. So these people had multiple real identities. When you think about it, it is fairly incredible.
When the super characters began playing out in the post-war years the publishers had to search for new themes and they tried everything settling finally into crime but then as Crime Does Not Pay William C. Gaines finally hit the main vein with sado-masochistic horror comics, thus Weird Tales and Tales From The Crypt et al..
That’s where I came in and leave off. I was surprised to find myself ruminating on this subject like this especially as I am beginning to find movement in my brain that signifies some sort of development. When I hit seventy-five I began to notice subtle brain changes followed by electrical discharges the significance of which I am just now understanding. So, I felt some changing was coming but I couldn’t tell when. I found out; it was imminent.
What prompted me to ruminate on dual personalities, the Jekyll and Hyde syndrome, was unknown to me but from the rumblings in my brain I knew something was brewing. Whatever abominable motives I had for coming to New York City were about to out themselves; I sensed that.
I still needed a wardrobe. I had come to the realization that I needed different garb for different situations, that is, essentially, multiple identities. Ragnar was much more familiar with the city and as his time was at my disposal I asked him to show me around some thrift shops; I needed second hand clothing.
I met him at the building’s entrance where we stopped and chatted with Ottmar the doorman for a few minutes. Ragnar gave Ottmar an opportunity to look me over and evaluate me. I put on my maximum gravitas for Ottmar, which I also assumed for the outing with Ragnar. I was sure I passed Ottmar’s test and while I couldn’t be sure I saw that he was tentatively satisfied.
Ragnar was gifted with an almost perfect knowledge of the city’s streets so I let him lead our two man parade. While walking along we passed a wig shop, I guided Ragnar in. The shine was showing through the sparsening hairs on my own head while I had always been fascinated by Andy Warhol’s use of wigs. They were good disguises.
There was a wonderful array of wigs. I picked out a grey one for dignity, a blond one to look vainglorious and a dark one, I suppose for variety but maybe in imitation of Elvis. I was interested in disguising my own paucity of follicles (God, that’s labored, isn’t it?) I can’t bring myself to say bald, but like with Warhol, for effect. An obvious wig draws people’s attention away from your actual appearance making an identification less possible. So, I was three wigs closer to my objective.
Ragnar brought us up to a block or so of thrift shops. I began selecting street clothes. There were any number of styles to choose from, very nearly any time period. Especially since the Great Migration under Obama’s third term, permanent dictatorship actually, one could buy almost any style in the world, naqibs, dashikis, everything.
The ’16 election ended the ‘democracy’ as you well know. God, that was a mess. I was irate when they refused to inaugurate Trump after he had taken a full sixty-five percent of the popular vote and all the electoral votes save New Mexico. We, of what was dubbed the Outsider Party, were irate but the Insider Party small as it was had the fire power and already controlled the apparatus so there was little that could be done in that surprise move.
At least the battle lines were drawn although little in the way of revolt has appeared yet. Some very minor skirmishing in places like Chicago and some Southern cities but nothing unmanageable yet. Remarkably quiet but with a feeling of real tension. Trump had no choice but to go back to New York City. Winning by that margin and being denied his office, of course, exposed the Insiders to the world and the mask did come down, both here and in Europe. Embarrassed the Insiders stripped Trump of his fortune leaving him with a relative pittance, he definitely had to sell his 757.
Even as Trump was returning to New York the Insiders threw down the walls and immigration exploded. They give us five million as the official number but it is probably ten to twenty million judging from the streets of New York which is where millions landed. Speaking as the ghost of John Rocker one doesn’t hear so much dozens of foreign languages but that English seems to be missing.
In an odd turn of events on our journey I noticed ‘scribes’ with tables set up for customers who wanted to send a letter back home but were illiterate. Talk of medieval times; there was no longer an appropriate name for it. I found myself buying strange things. I got a very nice Lubavitcher outfit, also a perfect disguise, weird hat and all for not too much. I picked up a naqib or burka that I thought would be a terrific disguise. You could carry weapons and nearly anything under the voluminous folds without fear of detection. Plus as an apparent woman you were generally ignored, invisible.
I also asked Ragnar to get me a couple handguns. He agreed before he realized what he had admitted but we both let that slide. I have no idea why I thought he could do it nor did I realize why I wanted them. We were fully loaded on the walk back to the condo. Perhaps spurred on by Ragnar’s ability to get guns I asked if he knew martial arts.
‘Oh sure. That was one of the Carmichael’s requirements. I also serve as a bodyguard. I’m Black Belt. Why?’
I wasn’t sure why. ‘You look like you can really handle yourself Ragnar. Good shape, athletic build, just wondered? Work out?
‘Absolutely. I don’t bulk up like a body builder but I’ve put on enough muscle to deal with things, get the right weight you know. May I ask you a few questions?’
‘Sure, go ahead. If they’re discreet.’
‘A friend of mine recognized you from your picture on your web site. He says you’re the writer Partly Wright. True?’
‘Partly Wright Delivers The Truth? Yes, that’s my stuff. Your friend reads me?’
‘He’s on the conservative side and says you lay it out as it is.’
‘That’s my goal Ragnar, that’s my goal. Good to learn somebody else thinks so too. Is your friend political?’
I was trying to find out if Ragnar was part of some secret political organization but I couldn’t come out and ask without seeming nosy.
‘Is your friend in a political set?’ I asked hoping that sounded like a generality.
‘No, we just talk at the gym about things.’
Talk at the gym? OK. There was a possibility. I let the subject drop for the time being as we were approaching the condo. We threw the bundles into the grocery cart as I reminded him to be ready for my first fitting at James Carter.
I woke up next morning and realized that I was due at James Carter for my initial fitting. I looked forward eagerly to the thought of realizing my desire for a bespoke suit, still, other thoughts crowded my mind. I wondered what my real reason was for being in New York. Yes, I was aware of the good reasons but I sensed subliminal reasons I wasn’t able to articulate. And then there were the brain stirrings that usually preceded some sort of mental adjustment. So far each had been more liberating after the trauma while I believed I had cleared out all of the fixations that had influenced my behavior. At the same time I sensed, or I knew of from study, that there was a level of conditioning that lurked below the subconscious in a sort of basement or foundation of the mind. Perhaps that was stirring. I would soon find out.
Alighting from the limo I was greeted on the sidewalk by the manager, a little too effusively I thought; there was no reason to leave the store. As he escorted me up the stairs to the second floor it hit. The seventh step up I felt, even heard, the brain crunch as I slightly staggered against the rail. Fortunately the manager was ahead of me and didn’t see me lurch or whatever grimace was on my face. I was slightly dazed and mentally unsteady as he brought the lead tailor out to introduce me to him.
I could feel the cold professional appraisal, I knew I was being evaluated for what status I would be assigned.
‘Abe, this is Mr. Partly Wright for whom we will be making several suits’. He said, adding a few suits I hadn’t mentioned as he saw that Abe was giving me a fishy eye bordering on disapproval or even hostility in an effort to forestall any affront by Abe to drive me off.
‘And Partly this is Abraham Goldbladder our tailor and one of the finest in New York’, Abe growled, ‘And anywhere else.’ ‘I’m sure you to will get along swimmingly, won’t you Abe?’
‘I’m sure.’ Abe said glowering at me, sawing the measuring tape across the back of neck a couple times. ‘Partly is it? Come this way and we’ll get started.’
I followed into the work area where Abe turned swiftly and stood glaring at me, uncertain of how to begin.
‘I know who you are Mr. Wright.’ He said sternly. ‘Follow me.’
‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘This explains who some of the people are who Ragnar noticed following me. It isn’t that I didn’t think The Tribe mightn’t be tagging my movements but this confirmed it, moved my suspicions from paranoia to fact, so to speak.
Abe led through a corridor or two, down backstairs to a door he flung open with an imperative gesture to pass through. I found myself in an alley, a dank smelly alley, narrow and confining. At first I thought that Abe had thrown me out, refusing to serve me but, no, he followed me out and stood confronting me.
‘We know who you are.’ He repeated sternly as though demanding a reply.
I paused a moment gathering my fractured wits about me while trying to assume a commanding but condescending humorously mocking posture. This confrontation would determine the quality of my stay in New York. Abe believed that confronting me in amongst the smelly dumpsters in the alley would be an insult to put me at a disadvantage. Abe had no way of knowing that I had dealt with his tribesmen in a more than somewhat intimate basis in my working years and was quite familiar with Jewish tactics.
I smiled and chuckled at him trying to exude the air that Abe was in his proper habitat and that I was fully aware of it. I did succeed to his obvious discomforture.
‘I’m sure you do, Abe. I’m just surprised that you have finally come out into the open. Am I in your habitat now?’
It was important for me to get the upper. I knew that Abe would try to get me angry while not being able to imagine any other arguments than the Semitic canards that had come down through the ages forming the basis of his peoples’ minds. I therefore imagined myself smoking the avuncular or grandfatherly pipe chuckling quietly at the young one’s impertinence. If I could get Abe steamed so much the better.
Abe flushed a little, losing his edge, when he realized that I had said that he was in his element in the alley amongst those godawful dumpsters.
‘We want to know what you’re here for. What’s up your sleeve?’
‘Oh Abe’, I chuckled, ‘you’re not going to lay that paranoid trip on me are you? Do you fear the other that much?’
‘Fear what other?’ He said, jutting out his jaw a trifle. ‘We aren’t afraid of anyone.’
‘Oh Abe, you know, the ever present fearsome anti-Semite. Those you have to shut down and silence by any means necessary.’ I took an imaginary draw on my imaginary pipe to keep a steady low.
‘We know from your writings that you’re an anti-Semite Wright, the lowest form of scum on the planet.’
‘By ‘we’ I presume you’re including the American Jewish Committee and Anti-Defamation League, possibly the SPLC, Abe?’
He snorted non-committally refusing to answer.
‘Only in the Jewish mind, Abe.’ I replied to his question with a smile and a knowing laugh. ‘Anti-Semitism is only Jewish fear of the other in action. You just can’t face who you are; any criticism smarts so bad because it tells you the truth about yourselves. The truth is that Jews always live in societies that are superior to you and that clashes so furiously with your fantasies of superiority that it drives you mad.
There is evidence. Consider the Jews transported from a relatively primitive backwater town like Jerusalem to the stupendous magnificence of Babylon. The Jewish imagination was dwarfed. Thus you have madmen like Isaiah and Ezekiel proclaiming Jewish superiority and opening the gates to the Persians.
The same scenario has been repeated ad infinitum throughout history including your opening the doors of the United States to unlimited diverse immigration. That’s the same thing as opening Babylon’s doors to the Persians or Spanish doors to the Moors not to mention then opening Moorish doors to the Spaniards. It is incontestable Abe.
Jewish frustration erupts into mass murder. The Jews attempted to compete with and subject the Roman Empire. That ended in the complete destruction of Israel and the leveling of Jerusalem and the Temple. Undismayed your people continued the war finally erupting at the beginning of the second century murdering half a million people in Alexandria and Cyprus under the most barbaric conditions. A true crime against humanity.
The result of that episode was a manhunt to destroy any and all Jews. Sixteen hundred years later after the resulting collapse of civilization your Jews again thought to kill all Europeans. Sabbatai Zevi posing as a messiah thought to usher in the millennium in 1666. Your Jews in Europe were selling their possessions for peanuts to have a last fling as money wouldn’t matter after the redemption. The redemption failed and the Jewish revolt never happened.
I’m skipping over a great deal Abe, just the highlights now. Then in 1914 you instigated the Great European Holocaust that after the terrible wars from ’14 to ’45 has continued to today when you have refused to seat the elected presidential candidate Donald Trump.’
Here Abe lost control a little, I was succeeding. ‘That was only social justice. I’m sure you know that in 1920 five elected Jewish representatives to the New York legislature were refused their seats and sent back to New York City.’
‘Not because they were Jewish Abe, because they were Socialists.’
‘What’s the difference?’ Abe let slip.
‘In answer to your question, none.’ I laughed as merrily as I could without seeming forced. I had admired a lesson Marshall McLuhan had given to Tim Leary in the Sixties of the old century that when confronted by hecklers the best reproof was to just open your mouth and laugh them off. Drives them crazy and it seemed to effect Abe that way who should have known better with his age and experience.
‘But the situations are not comparable Abe. Of course with the elected candidate refused we still needed a president. Hillary, the defeated candidate was not possible and there were no alternates legally available so you people set aside all law, all precedent and said Obama would continue as president for life. And then you had the gall to get your three Jewish representatives on the Supreme Court to declare it constitutional. Fourteenth Amendment my ass.’
‘That was a problem that had nothing to do with we Jews.’
‘One thousand Rabbis said otherwise Abe. Deny as you will. Then out of sheer malice you destroyed Trump. Stripped him of everything for having defied you. Took everything, even renamed Trump Towers the Goldman Towers. Don’t know why you left the other half of the name off. Everyone knows who Obama’s boss is.
So, really Abe, I’ve got your number, you don’t have mine. I know you, you know me. I’m just here to get some clothes because your company reminds me of Eric Ross. It gives me some continuity. You’re going to have to make my suits for me.’
So saying l slipped inside the door quickly throwing the dead bolt. Abe hammered and shouted to no effect. Accepting the inevitable he walked the length of the dark smelly alley emerging into the light to the amusement of those watching. Abe’s planned humiliation of me turned back on him.
Abe had a short discussion with his manager but as there would be a fair amount of money involved he accepted his fate and began my first fitting.
I had won this one but the strain told on me. My head was rattling as Ragnar drove me back to the condo. I felt uneasy if not outright sick while the laughter in my head I had experienced in the alley came back.
Ottmar smiled me in and the elevator wait seemed interminable before I got the he thirty-first floor and all the door locks unlocked, rushing into the bedroom to leap into bed. I had just pulled the covers to my chin when I heard that low chuckle and a voice say ‘Hello.’ There was no one there but the voice went on: ‘Hello. Yes it’s me. It’s Gaines.’
‘Gaines? Who the hell is Gaines?’ I found my mind answering.
‘You remember me. Gaines? The comic books? Tales From The Crypt, Weird Tales? Remember? I’m why you came to New York.’
‘Gaines?’ Oh, I know what has happened. My own personal Mr. Hyde has shown up. I had acquired a dual identity. ‘I just want to sleep Gaines. Come back later.’ He did cease and I dropped into a fitful sleep.
Continued in Clip Three.
November 24, 2013
Henry Ford’s War On The Jews
Victoria Saker Woeste
Aaron Sapiro Takes On Henry Ford For Profit
Review by R.E. Prindle
Woeste, Victoria Saker: Henry Ford’s War On The Jews And The Legal Battle Against Hate Speech, 2012, Stanford University Press
The remarkable thing about Jews is that they think Aryans don’t have the intelligence to analyze their activities. To my mind Aryans are analytical geniuses. Who else could have or did create Chemistry through the analysis of complete intangibles. Neither the Jews nor any other people had anything to do with Chemistry or the development of any of the other scientific disciplines. Yet the Jews are there to take the credit while claiming to be more intelligent than Aryans.
What other people have ever weighed the invisible carbon atom? What other people have ever determined the distance from the Earth to the Sun, the speed of light?
What other people organized the sciences, the social sciences, psychology? Do the Jews believe that the men who could resolve those seeming impossibilities are not able to scan the history of the Jewish people and not understand their motives and methods? Are all the historians and people who have explained those methods and motives truly wrong, stupid, malignant or…anti-Semites? Of course not. The truth is plain to see.
Do the Jews believe that men like Henry Ford who could create from scratch huge industrial organizations actually be blind to what was going on before their eyes? I hope not. Do they believe that they didn’t give Henry Ford reasons to expose their machinations? I don’t think so. I think that they think they are magicians and hypnotists who can make you see what isn’t there and deny what is.
Let us search the historical memory of recent times, that is post-French Revolution, to see if we can show what Henry Ford and his times saw. In 1843 the small Jewish community in the US founded the Order Of The B’nai B’rith. The order went international. In 1895 Sigmund Freud joined the Vienna lodge to which he belonged for the remainder of his life. The B’nai B’rith was international. Psycho-analysis was international.
In 1860 in France the Alliance Israelite Universelle, an international organization, was founded to guard and promote Jewish interests around the world, that included Czarist Russia. In 1895 when world wide prospects could be better controlled from the United State the AIU was moved to New York City under the guidance of Jacob Schiff. Schiff immediately produced results by using the 200 million dollars in the cash assets of the Equitable Assurance Co. to finance the Japanese in their war against Czarist Russia. At the same time Jewish bankers refused to make loans to Russia. This is coordinated international activity.
The Jews had been warring with Russia for nearly a hundred years. From their base in NYC they caused the US to sever diplomatic relations with Russia in 1910.
In 1906 the Alliance Israelite Universelle was transformed into the American Jewish Committee the governing agency of the Jewish world government with Schiff as President and Louis Marshall as Secretary of State. In 1913 when the socialist Woodrow Wilson became president Jews flooded into DC while B’nai B’rith founded its terrorist enforcement agency the Anti-Defamation League. Functioning in a para-military manner the League began terrorizing anyone they deemed anti-Semites, the first step in shutting down freedom of speech. The ground work for the legalization of the concept of ‘hate’ speech was laid.
In 1917 Jews established the NAACP to further destabilize Aryan society.
Now, sometime after the collapse of Sabbatai Zevi as the latest Jewish messiah in the seventeenth century the Rabbis decided that there was to be no future for individual messiahs but that the whole Jewish people would act as their own messiah to bring about the millennium. The tabs set for the Jewish Revolution were 1913 to 1928 hence the furious Jewish activity during those years.
This was the situation that Ford saw. In 1914 came the Great War, WWI, the most destructive war on European manhood that could possibly be imagined. There were many who believe the war was engineered by the Jews.
Henry Ford, a farm boy from humble origins had spent his life trying to invent an automobile. In 1908 he succeeded, creating his Model T, a functional inexpensive car available to the multitudes not only the wealthy. By 1914 he become perhaps the richest man in the US. He was in a position to make his mark on the world. He did believe he had found a universal principle to bring on the millennium.
There is always a certain exhilaration to success. It always goes to your head to some extent no matter how hard you try to keep your balance. Convinced that he had found a universal rule to money making, that of lowering prices to increase volume, Ford shared his success with his work force by doubling their wages in 1914. This deed brought him unmeasured renown. It also aroused the envy of the Jews who thought the role of messiah was theirs.
When the Great War began, then, it was widely assumed that the US would be forced in. At that point preparedness became an issue. To prepare the country for the inevitable entry by arming. A large segment of the population led by the fatuous Teddy Roosevelt wanted to arm in preparation while many others led by Woodrow Wilson procrastinated. Still others thought the war could negotiated to a halt, heeding the rule of reason so to speak. Ford was a peacenik. Inflamed by his notoriety and confidence in his abilities to perform wonders he ran full page advertisements in NYC papers and elsewhere proclaiming his beliefs.
A Jewish woman by the name of Rosika Schwimmer showed up on his doorstep to induce him to travel to Europe to negotiate an end to the war. Ford stepped into the trap. This was his first contact with ‘international’ Jews. Ford chartered a ship, he had the ways and means as well as intent, and invited many notables to take a free ride to Europe to talk things over with the various combatants.
While the idea wasn’t as preposterous in the context of the times as it sounds now, the more solid citizens declined the offer while the cranks and crazies and certain Jews signed on. Chief among the Jews were Rosa Schwimmer and a key member of the American Jewish Committee the propagandist Herman Bernstein. Bernstein wrote several tracts for the American Jewish Committee. Needless to say Ford’s Peace trip was botched shortly after taking to sea so that upon docking in Norway Ford returned home.
Ford’s side of the story was that a couple days out Miss Schwimmer and AJC agent Herman Bernstein took Ford aside explaining the facts of the matter to him. As they explained it the Jews were in control of the situation through international linkages and that Ford was wasting his time as Jews were the only people who could stop the war. Schwimmer and Bernstein of course denied Ford’s account. That leaves one with the choice of believing Ford or the Jews. I have more confidence in Ford and choose his statements. The Jews as usual deny everything.
In point of fact, as the Czar was considered by the Jews as their great enemy, so long as Russia was one of the allies the Jews supported Germany as the enemy of their enemy rejecting any aid to the Allies. The Jews were considered a powerful people whose assistance was courted by the Allies. It was thus they extorted the Balfour Declaration from England.
With the February Revolution in Russia by the Mensheviks and the removal of the Czar who with his entire family was later murdered by the Jews they could turn their attention to destroying Germany replacing the Kaiser with their own as was actually done for a short time in Bavaria. With the Czar dethroned, on April 2, 1917 Woodrow Wilson went before Congress to seek a declaration of war against Germany thus making the US the decisive factor in the defeat of the Kaiser. First the Czar then the Kaiser.
Lenin already en route to St. Petersburg’s Finland Station arrived there on the next day April 3rd, 1917. In October Lenin’s Bolshevik Party displaced the Mensheviks in the October Revolution quickly murdering the Czar and family. Immediately after the Bolshevik Revolution Jacob Shiff representing the American Jewish Committee forwarded very large loans to help finance the Bolshevik Revo. This did not go unnoticed as President Wilson commanded him to come to the White House to explain his actions. Masters of Bullshit as always Schiff was able to placate Wilson.
None of this was secret at the time, anyone who cared could know about it. One has to believe that after being shamed and ridiculed by Jews as he saw it in the Peace Ship episode one may be sure Ford was an attentive bystander. The Jews as always denied everything.
Ford’s next encounter with the Jews came over the War Industries Board directives. The Detroiters had significant differences with Wilson’s clearly socialist program. The WIB under the direction of the Jew Bernard Baruch tried to subordinate the nation’s manufacturers to the government, actually nationalized the railroads, in what amounted to quasi-nationalization for industry.
So by the beginning of 1918 Ford had had two very unpleasant encounters with the Jews. If he hadn’t been suspicious of them before he was by then and especially so after January 1919 when he received a copy of the Jewish Bill Of Rights from the AJC, that is Jacob Schiff and Louis Marshall demanding his compliance to their special ‘rights.’
At the same time Ford was being sued by his investors for dividends instead he bought them out. For the first time in life he was forced to apply to the bankers for a loan, this one into the tens of millions. The bankers too were Jews and they pressed him for immediate repayment. Unable to meet their demands from cash reserves Ford went through a crash reorganization to convert non-essential assets into cash at which he succeeded thus retaining ownership of Ford Motors. Another two unpleasant encounters.
In 1920 ,then, having acquired the Dearborn Independent newspaper that Ford took international he began publishing a series of articles exposing Jewish methods and motives. None dare call it self-defense. Among the essays were three dealing with the AJC’s Jewish Bill Of Rights. Abe Foxman of the ADL characterizes the Ford Essays this way:
The International Jew also attacked the Jews for speaking out about injustice and defending their constitutional rights. “Jewish rights seemed to be summed up in the right to banish everything from their sight and hearing that suggests Christianity and its Founder,” it commented. In fact these so-called “attacks on Christianity” were reasonable Jewish objections to governmental expressions of Christianity which clearly violated the separation between church and state enshrined in the Constitution.
As the above quote indicates Foxman is intellectually dishonest. He intentionally confuses the so-called Jewish Bill Of Rights to which Ford was objecting with the US Bill of Rights associated with the Constitution. He knows that Ford is referring to the Jewish Bill Of Rights when Cameron writes “Jewish rights seem to be summed up in the right to banish everything from their sight and hearing that suggest Christianity or its Founder.”
The Constitution is available for all to read and ponder but the Jewish Bill of Rights has sagely been withdrawn and is nowhere to be found. Abe, almost facetiously, recognizes this knowing that but few have ever heard of the Jewish Bill Of Rights while none of us have actually been able to read it. He maliciously then accuses Ford of wishing to deny Jews constitutional rights as American citizens. An outright lie if there ever was one.
Further, Ford was telling the truth as anyone observing Jewish efforts to ban Christmas and even Halloween in schools and public places today can attest.
Abe then tries to justify specious claims by saying “these so-called “ attacks on Christianity were reasonable Jewish objections to governmental expressions of Christianity which clearly violated the separation between church and state enshrined in the constitution.
None of it! They were expressions of the people without any reference to governmental intervention. They were the vox populi. Enshrined in the Constitution! Give us a break.
Christmas in schools and public places is not clearly a governmental expression of Christianity; however what Abe probably really objects to is that it is an expression of an Aryan solstice custom with a very pagan Santa Claus as a symbol.
Lest Abe accuse me a defender of Christianity or any Semitic religion we all should know that whole Bible-Talmudic trash is total Arien Age bullshit. We’d all be better off without it. That would settle the church/synagogue-government Constitutional conflict wouldn’t it? Let’s work it out together Abe. Finish Henry’s work.
Now, the people who didn’t send the AJC questionnaire back or did so with adverse comments were placed on a Jewish blacklist just as I have been today. Some of my essays are republished by the ADL on their site as examples of anti-Semitism. Who says so Abe? You? That’s defamation of my good name, Abe.
So, as Ford had been black listed in 1919 as an anti-Semite it follows that his retort to the tort was to begin publishing articles exposing Jewish machinations. Tit for tat. Turnabout is fair play.
Still Ford was portrayed as the aggressor. A lunatic anti-Semite with a ‘hole’ in his heart against angelic defenseless Jews.
As important and central as the Jews were was there anything else happening in America that might have attracted Ford’s attention? Well, a few things and they found their way into the vast majority of the Independent’s pages. Coming out of the war the America of the New Era was in upheaval. There was a seeming sharp break between 1914 and 1920. Newspapers were becoming more sensational by the day. Bernarr Macfadden was out there. Watch out! As has been said ‘when the music changes the walls of the city shake. And music was changing very rapidly. Not only changed but become ubiquitous with the success of radio and the phonograph record. Jazz, Hillbilly, Blues anything even classical music could be heard with the turn of a knob or crank. And the dances! Gone were the stately dances of Henry’s youth replaced by the Grizzly Bear, Bunny Hop, the Charleston and Black Bottom. Nothing compared to today’s twerking, lap dancing and other direct terpsichorean imitations of coitus. Henry saw it coming being the prescient sort he was. He was on the money.
Bobbed hair, skirts up to here but not quite there, Jesus! And lawlessness fueled by prohibition! Not quite the lawlessness of today but I doubt if anyone could have seen that coming short of Billy the Kid and the Daltons. Ford was aghast at all the social expressions of the twenties longing for a return to the good old days just before the introduction of his Model T.
The Jews only saw a little bit of what Ford was saying and their reaction was immediate. The ‘defenseless’ Jews struck back led by Louis Marshall. Marshall ridiculed Ford for stating that the movies were Jewish controlled. Such audacity on the part of Marshall. The leading film maker at the time William Fox turned his cameras on Fords and gave Henry hell. I find it incredible that Fox had, I read this and can’t believe it’s true, fifty percent of the market in the early twenties including for a time an exclusive on newreels with his MovieTone News.
Fox refused to use the Model T in any of his obviously numerous movies while Movie Tone News shot every accident a Ford car was in that they could find. Oh, defenseless?, I should say so.
As an interesting aside, in the late twenties when the NYC money men were consolidating the movie industry Fox saw no need to be consolidated thus placing himself in the way of progress. The money men destroyed him combining the rump of Fox Pictures with Twentieth Century to form Twentieth Century-Fox with no Fox in sight. As the waters closed above him Fox had the chutzpah to ask Ford to rescue him.
It’s interesting that today’s Fox network dropped the Twentieth Century and resuscitated William Fox’s name.
The Jews then were searching anxiously for a legal excuse to bring Ford down. This was provided in 1924 when Aaron Sapiro brought his lawsuit against Ford on very specious, one might say, nonexistent grounds.
Abe the Fox in his disingenuous way says that the International Jew did not portray Jews as individuals, but as a single minded, calculating cabal. Apparently Abe isn’t aware that the millennium with the whole Jewish people as the messiah was being fought out at the time. Abe is not correct as the title The International Jew indicates Ford was referring only to that cabal of Jews such as the AJC’s Jacob Schiff and Louis Marshall who were in fact functioning as part of an international government looking after the interests of Jews throughout the world. Some few years after Ford’s forged apology the Jewish World Congress was formed adding it to the organizations who were shepherding the worldwide Jewish flock.
Ford rather fatuously divided the Jewish people into one group of regular people and the other group of international Jews while the regulars had no idea what the IJs were doing in the Jewish name. In fact this division could have been demonstrated although all Jews went through the same education, indoctrination and conditioning so that there did exist a collective hive mind that could be relied on. Thus when Aaron Sapiro filed his suit it became clear that the issue was not the issue of his being somehow maligned but the whole Jewish people had been also hence the need for ‘hate’ speech legislation.
One sometimes feels embarrassed by Abe Foxman’s circumlocutions. Nothing is clearer than that Ford’s international Jews became involved in the litigation. Louis Marshall himself forged Ford’s so-called apology and for what anybody knows signed it himself. But, on to the litigation.
The account of Victoria Saker Woeste appears in the journal of the American Bar Foundation. The ABF defines itself as the nation’s leading research institute for the empirical study of law. Located in Chicago it says that it is an organization dedicated to advancing justice through rigorous research on the law, legal processes, and the laws impact on society.
Nevertheless Miss Woeste begins with the sentence: This project examines a well known event in the life of Henry Ford- a 1927 federal libel lawsuit against him and his anti-Semitic newspaper- from the perspective of the people who sought to stop him.
So at the outset Miss Woeste admits her account is biased. So much for the empiricism of the ABF and its concern for justice.
While Miss Woeste limits her investigation to the perspective of her fellow Jews I think I can be a little more inclusive.
First, let’s put Henry Ford into perspective. Ford was not a man of the present or the future, he was a man of the past. His formative period ended with the perfection of the Model T. To him the auto was a continuation of the buggy. The first Fords were essentially self-propelled buckboards. The Model T was meant for people to enjoy the world as it was, not as the Model T would change it.
When ‘progress’ presented the world with the New Era- the twenties- Ford rejected it completely, he didn’t like anything about it. He tried to re-establish the past, now containing his Model T. It should be noted in this context that the Model T did not substantially change from 1908 to 1926.
The results of unrestricted immigration apparently caught both him and the nation by surprise but he manfully tried to reconstruct his world in the pre-war image as did the nation through restriction of immigration.
The course of business propelled him then into a future as unrecognizable to him as the New Era. While Ford’s was not the first billion dollar company it was the first created by one man; and in the incredible short time of a mere decade.
The heading of his newspaper describes it as The International Dearborn Independent. Ford himself had established his company as a huge international corporation represented in nearly every country on earth. Like the British Empire Ford could say that the sun never set on his dealerships.
His was a totally vertically integrated company. He owned mines for metals, forests and shipping companies. His freighters could be seen out on Lake Huron bearing a huge F-O-R-D amidships. As one exercise in efficiency his company once manufactured a completed auto from his own iron ore and own blast furnaces to the roll out of the black painted Tin Lizzie in twenty-four hours. A mind boggling achievement.
This is an aside: Ford has been criticized for saying when asked why he offered no other colors than black, ‘they can have any color they want so long as its black.’ Through the decades this has been considered a most arrogant statement. However, today the only colors offered as standard by most auto companies are black or white. You have to pay extra for any other color. Henry should have thought of that one. But today you can have any color you want so long as it’s black or white unless you want to fork over another thousand dollars.
When glass companies couldn’t turn out the quantities of glass he needed Ford’s technicians took over a glass company, devised a method to mass produce glass and showed the glass makers how to do it. And the list goes on and on. This was one amazing man.
Unfortunately as a man of the past he failed to keep up with or incorporate new advances into his Model T. Or possibly he couldn’t add them and keep his price the lowest in the industry. He never thought of add-ons I guess. GM’s Chevy turned out a better cheap car than Ford although the price was higher, people began to approve of the improvements edging the Chevy closer to top sales. By 1925 it became clear to Ford that he had to bring the Ford into a new present. He couldn’t become a me too Chevy and just add its improvements; he had to leap frog over the Chevy.
In 1927 then he closed Ford’s doors for eight months to redesign his car. The new Model was the most sensational auto introduction of all time.
The libel trial was artfully brought to court in 1927 as an harassed Ford was struggling to design and get the Model A into production. He had always stretched himself too thin but the problems of the new car and the libel trial was too much for him to bear. Thus, it was either the new Model A or the trial. As unpleasant as it may have been Ford opted for the Model A and abandoned the trial.
Aaron Sapiro then began the suit in 1924 after the series of twenty articles in the Independent exposing his machinations appeared.
Were the articles slanderous? No more so than any expose and the Jews were famous for writing exposes with the intent to destroy the objects of their books and articles. In point of fact it appears that Sapiro and his associates were trying for a corner in commodities of all sorts both in the US and Canada, that is internationally. Had they succeeded would they not have connected new world commodity markets with old world commodity markets also in the control of Jews? It would have been foolish if they had not, wouldn’t it? Would Aryans attempting the same thing have denied it?
I can’t believe Sapiro’s activities weren’t apparent to the interested observer. Nor can there be any doubt that if he had succeeded in organizing the producers who would remain producers and not become administrators while Sapiro and his associates would administer the ‘co-op.’ So who was going to make the money whether crops were good or bad?
I was once a member of the UAW, the United Auto Workers. In other words Walter Reuther and his UAW organized the commodity of unskilled labor in auto manufacturing. Reuther and his union goons then had to be paid for their efforts. They set their own wages and benefits to manage our commodity of labor.
We of the commodity then paid them dues withdrawn from our wages by our employer- Fisher Body of GM in this instance, which paid them to the union because we the commodity couldn’t be trusted individually to voluntarily pay up. They were wise in this.
Now, it only cost the union X dollars to manage our affairs. But Reuther and his goons charged X times 4 more or less leaving them with a huge excess. This made no sense to we of the commodity. Adding insult to injury Reuther and his goons used this excess for their own purposes. They made political contributions and donations according to their own prejudices that I couldn’t approve of. Reuther himself built a lodge for himself and union execs at a very exclusive lake that we the commodity paid for but would never be allowed to use and bought a plane to fly himself in and out.
So obviously Reuther exploited his commodity and its producers for his own benefit and that of his cronies.
Alright. What would have been the result of Sapiro and his associates efforts? According to Miss Woeste and her Henry Ford’s War On The Jews before the war Sapiro reported an annual income of 80,000 dollars not counting expenses. To put that into perspective in today’s dollars that might be as much eight million dollars depending on your multiplier.
The farmers knew they were getting bilked and began to turn away from him. According to Miss Woeste by the time Sapiro sued Ford he had already peaked being distrusted within the farm community. In essence his career was over. Perhaps that is why he filed a million dollar suit against Ford. Remember in today’s dollar the would be twenty or thirty million.
He appears to have had a weak position so that is why he shifted the issue to anti-Semitism. But what does Sapiro say of his motives? Miss Woeste quotes him, p.143.
As an individual I was immaterial: but I was there as a representative, first, of the cooperative marketing movement, and second, as a representative of the Jews [the whole Jewish people] who were trying in their own ways to bring social light to disorganized industry in America.
So he says the suit wasn’t about his own insignificant self. No, no. Pure altruism. He had two grander objectives that he says he represented, that of the cooperative movement that had been existing pretty well without him and the dissimilar objective of the Jews. He characterized the Jews as trying to impose their vision of industrial organization on the hopeless mess created by the Aryans.
This last objective was not dissimilar to what Ford was claiming he was doing qua the Jews. We know what reward Sapiro had already received in wages and what he was claiming from Ford but what was the reward he thought the Jews expected for setting America aright? A million dollars? Get serious! Leadership? Preeminence? The reins of government? Well, wasn’t that what Ford was claiming?
Compare Sapiro’s vision to that of Irving Berlin who wrote God Bless America at about this same time: ‘Stand beside her and guide her’ [America]. Berlin was addressing the Jews in his song, telling him what they should do. So, once again, we have an incompetent disorganized America needing the help of the omniscient Jews to bring social light and guidance. This was exactly Ford’s claim or part of it.
In his quest for personal profit from the accusation of anti-Semitism, and anti-Semitism is in the eye of the beholder, that Sapiro was asking for he was opposed by no less than the Pres. Of the American Jewish Committee Louis Marshall who scented the beginnings of a race racket by exploiting Jewishness that he feared would backfire on them. At that point then Marshall did not want Sapiro to win the suit. It was in his interest to see a mistrial to prevent Ford from winning on one hand and from Sapiro’s profiting on the other.
A mistrial was called because of jury tampering although it is not clear who tampered with the jury.
Thus when Ford was in the trammels of trying to invent the V8 and the Model A his attention would have been diverted if not consumed by a new trial. At this point Marshall brushed Sapiro aside stepping in to free Ford for more important work demanding an apology to the Jews as a whole in full compensation. Sapiro more or less went broke with this long and very expensive trial.
In a forgery of no less magnitude than the Protocols Of Zion that ostensibly started the trial Marshall himself drew up every obsequious confession of anti-Semitism or, in other words, ‘hate’ speech that according to Miss Woeste was the true purpose of the trial laying the foundation for the Jewish ‘hate’ laws enacted in our day.
Marshall’s forging of the apology was not enough, still not content with only an apology the Jews continued their war on Henry Ford waging a campaign of defamation that has not ceased with Ford’s death in 1948 as Miss Woeste’s book attests. An endless stream of defamatory books condemning Ford has been emitted from that day to this. In her book Miss Woeste might better have said the Jews war on Ford or at the very best with.
As Miss Woeste says, hers is the first book that examines the Sapiro suit in detail making her effort valuable from that point of view. Unfortunately the book is so polemical that it can’t really qualify as a history. Indeed, one is amazed that a university press of Stanford’s stature would even issue it without heavy editing and guidance. They should have stood beside Miss Woeste and pointed toward the true academic path.
Still, I do find uses for the volume.
June 20, 2008
Slum Goddess From The Lower East Side
Some Thoughts On The Autobiography Of Suze Rotolo:
A Freewheelin’ Time
Sandoz The Great
In 1938 Albert Hofman, a Swiss chemist working for Sandoz isolated LSD-25. In 1938 young Tim Leary was 18 years old. It was in 1943 that Albert Hofman discovered the effects of LSD. Seventeen years after that LSD burt onto the world through the agency of the now, Dr., Timothy Leary, a psychologist with Harvard University.
LSD was adopted by the Bohemian society and all its offshoots as the appearance of the new chemical Messiah: Better living through chemistry as the slogan was. Its use quickly spread through the folk music community of Greenwich Village in New York City.
In 1923 a fellow by the name of Tuli Kupferberg was born and his partner Ed Sanders came along in 1939 a year after I did. Kupferberg and Sanders were poets who became influenced by the folk scene forming a band sometime in 1964 originally called the Village Fugs, later the Village was dropped and they became simply the Fugs. In 1965 they released their first LP on Folkways. Now, cut one, side one was little number entitled Slum Goddess From The Lower East Side. Sort of OK as a song, funny, as were a lot of Fugs songs. Like Dylan they searched for social significance rather than write trite love songs. Unlike Dylan you could easily understand the meaning of the lyrics. Slum Goddess was one and then there was a song that many of us thought significant in the social sense back in those days entitled: Boobs A Lot. ‘Do you like boobs a lot? Gotta like boobs a lot.’ As I said deep and intense meaning. This was followed by a song eulogizing jock straps. ‘Do you wear your jock strap? Gotta wear your jock strap.’ So the Fugs were with it.
At some point after 1965 the Village Voice decided to run a feature depicting some East Village lovely as the Slum Goddess From The Lower East Side. Suze Rotolo had the dubious honor of being selected as the very first Slum Goddess.
To what did she owe this honor? Well, she was famous on the Lower East Side for being featured on the album cover of Bob Dylan’s second LP, The Free Wheelin’ Bob Dylan. She was at that time, 1962, I believe, Bob’s girl friend or, at least, one of them, perhaps the principle one but one can’t be sure as Bob had others as ‘part time’ girl friends.
Thus one has to go back to the summer of 1961 to discover how Suze Rotolo began her odyssey to become the very first Slum Goddess. Suze tells her story in her autobiography issued in May of 2008 called A Freewheelin’ Time. It is a bitter sweet story not lacking in charm. Bob was born in 1941 while Suze was born three years later. All the disparate elements in our story born at separate times were slowly moving to a central focal point in New York City from 1961 to 1965 or so.
Suze and Bob were of that age when freewheelin’ seemed possible while the psychological social moment was about to congeal and then vanish before it could be realized as psychological moments do. Some catch the golden ring as it come around, some don’t. Bob did, Suze didn’t.
Suze was born in Queens, over there on Long Island, as a red diaper baby. In other words in the romanticized Communist parlance her parents were Communists when she was born. She was brought up in the faith.
Bob described her as a libertine dream or some such epithet. I’m not sure Suze saw herself in the same way. I think she expected a little more of Bob than to be his sex toy. As a Communist she should have had a more freewheelin’ attitude.
Suze seems to have been brought up completely within the Red religion much as a Christian might be a Catholic, Methodist, Lutheran or as Jew in whatever stripe of Judaism it might be.
She edged into race agitation at a young age. She met Bob when she was seventeen while she had been working for CORE (Congress Of Racial Equality) for a couple years before that. She would have been fifteen or sixteen. Whether she had sexual experiences with the Africans she doesn’t tell us. In her search for a raison d’ etre for her life she found herself in Greenwich Village in the Summer of ’61 where she met the twenty year old Bob Dylan just in from the Iron Range of Minnesota. They were mutually attracted, quickly forming a sexual relationship.
Bob as everyone knows was and is Jewish. He came not only from a Jewish background but from an orthodox background. Hibbing, Minnesota, his hometown, had a Jewish population of about three hundred families with their own Jewish establishment and synagogue.
According to Beattie Zimmerman, Bob’s mother, Bob was a good boy who attended services regularly while investigating the nature of the various Christian churches. As a mother Beattie’s version of things must be interpreted through the eyes of mother love.
Father Abe was not only a practising Jew but the President of the Hibbing chapter of B’nai B’rith and its terrorist arm the Anti-Defamation League. In addition Beattie, Bob’s mother, was the President of the Women’s auxiliary, Hadassah. So Bob isn’t just Jewish but comes from a very committed Jewish background.
As the President of the Hibbing chapter, Father Abe would have attended statewide gatherings in Minneapolis, regional meetings wherever they were held and possibly if not probably national meetings in NYC and elsewhere. Now, within the international Jewish organizations heavy hitters attend various levels of meetings where they meet and learn something of the various local and regional people. Thus, it may be assumed that Abe Zimmerman as a name at least was known on the national Jewish level. Kind of the Jewish Who’s Who, you know. Bob says that he had contacts to help him when he got to New York. Those contacts would have come through Father Abe while being part of B’nai B’rith and ADL. Bob wasn’t entirely alone out there.
Bob’s Jewish name is Sabtai after the last acknowledged Jewish Messiah, Sabbatai Zevi. There have been many that filled a Messianic role since Zevi not least of which was Sigmund Freud and possibly Albert Einstein. Bob may have been encouraged to take the role for himself.
At any rate when Bob approached thirteen and Bar Mitzvah time Abe brought in a special Rabbi from Brooklyn to instruct Bob. Now this is really signficant. He was probably a Lubavitcher or ultra-orthodox Jew. When Bob publicly expressed his Judaism after his Christian stint he chose to do so as a Lubavitcher. Very likely that was no coincidence. Having received his crash course in orthodoz Judaism Father Abe next sent his son to a Zionist summer camp for ‘several ‘ weeks for each of four successive summers ending at the age of seventeen. This would have the effect of introducing him to young Jews not only of the region but from around the world while at the same time estranging him from his fellow Hibbingites giving him his strange cast of character.
Camp Herzl was named after the originator of Zionism, Theodore Herzl. the camp with a spacious hundred and twenty acres is located on a lake near Webster, Wisconsin. Herzl is not your basic summer church camp but a national and international gathering place where young Jews from around the US and the world can meet and get known to each other somewhat.
The camp is conducted exclusively for Jews along Jewish lines eliminating as many goyish influences as is possible. At least when he was seventeen Bob was playing the Wild One showing up in a mini biker cavalcade. One may assume that many national and international Jewish figures made appearances over the four years to both instruct, encourage and look over the upcoming generation.
The post-war years were very traumatic for the Jewish people. The death camps of the Nazis dominated their minds. They were psychologically devastated and unbalanced looking for Nazis under their beds before they went to sleep at night. One may safely assume that Bob and his fellow campers had to watch extermination movies over and over lest they forget.
The State of Israel was founded in 1948 while the first of Israel’s successful wars occurred in 1956. The ’56 war was a seminal event bolstering the spirits of the Jews turning them aggressive as they now believed they could fight. After ’56 they began to come out of themselves.
For whatever reasons as Bob entered high school his personality began to disintegrate. Perhaps he had to cease being Bobby Zimmerman to become what his people expected of him which was a probable religious leader who then became Bob Dylan. As always Bob would combine two cultures, Jewish and Goyish.
After an extremely rocky year in Minneapolis where Bob shed the remnants of his goody goody image of Hibbing he became the dirty unkempt Bob Dylan of his rush to fame of the Folk years.
Thus as Bob and Suze met in the Summer of ’61 they were both searching for something to be.
Why Do Fools Fall In Love?
The question now that Suze and Bob have gotten together is to sort out the various accounts of what happened. Bob says everyone has gotten it wrong. However his own account in Chronicles I is no more factual than the accounts of his biographers and commentators. Suze doesn’t provide us with much more clarity. While Bob tells it like he wanted it to have been Suze on the the one hand protects her memory of what she wants to keep as a beautiful memory while glossing over her own actions at the time to keep it so.
Bob goes through the romantic notion of constructing their bed with saw, hammer and nails. This is a charming story and I’m embarrassed to say I took him at his word. You simply can’t. Chronicles came out four years ago so Suze has had plenty of time to read it and mull over Bob’s ruminations. Thus she must be aware of Bob’s story of the bed. She says it was an old bed the landlord left from another tenant. Another beautiful tale of Bob’s down the tubes.
Suze rather unflatteringly depicts Bob as a rouster and fairly heavy drinker. She was offended that Bob, who was posing as Bob Dylan, not yet having officially changed his name, didn’t level with her and confide that Dylan was a pseudonym that looked better on a marquee while his real name was Zimmerman and that he came from Minnesota rather than being an orphan from New Mexico. Coming home one night, as Suze tells it, Bob, stumblingly drunk, dropped his ID and she discovered the truth as she picked it up. Even then she had to drag the truth out of Bob.
These problems mounted up. There was immediate hostility between Bob, Suze’s mother and her sister Carla. The mother seems to have instinctively seen through Bob, while I’m sure Carla soon learned that Bob was doing her sister wrong.
As we know from Chronicles Bob had other ‘part-time’ girl friends, pick ups and whatever. As the folk crowd was a fairly tight knit group even if Suze didn’t want to hear the obvious Carla who was employed by the Folklorist, Alan Lomax, could hardly have been unaware that Bob had a laissez faire attitude toward romancing the girls.
Indeed, Bob’s understanding of Suze was that she was his Libertine belle. As a libertine therefore he could hardly have believed fidelity was a necessary condition. I don’t know if Suze considered herself a Libertine but as a Communist both fidelity and jealousy were forbidden by the dogma so speaking consistently with the belief system neither mother, Suze nor Carla had grounds for complaint. Nevertheless both mother and Carla wished to separate Bob and Suze.
Bob records his side of the conflict in his song Ballad in Plain D. In his usual high flown language Bob says in his song:
“The tragic figure!” her sister did shout,
“Leave her alone, goddamn you, get out.”
All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight.
I gagged twice, doubled, tears blinding my sight.
My mind it was mangled, I ran into the night
Leaving all of love’s ashes behind me.
Within a few months he was married to Sara who he kept waiting in the wings. Subsequently he tried to keep Sara and his growing family in Woodstock and the Slum Goddess Of The Lower East Side out on the side. Suze, apparently not quite as Libertine as Bob supposed, declined the honor.
Just as Bob blithely romanticizes his early NY years in some sappy Happy Talk that belies his songs and what nearly everyone has written about him so Suze adopts a near virginal girlish pose. Her story of how she left for Italy and her true blue yearning for the perfect love of Bob who sent those charming letters purloined from old country songs is also belied by the various biographers. To hear Suze talk she never looked at a boy in Italy and certainly never dated one let alone kissed or petted. Yet by her religious Communist ideology that would have been no sin, even would have been a virtue. In fact she did have an Italian boyfriend who was apparently dropped down the memory hole at autobiography time.
When she did return the road of romance was much more rocky than she lets on. Carla who stayed home where she could watch Bob was privy to his doings which were much more libertine than anything he accused Suze of. He had to have slept with Liam Clancy’s live in somewhere in there. He’s accused of being a womanizer and you can’t be a womanizer without a lot of women. So whatever Carla knew it was somewhat more than an earful and I’m sure that between Carla and her mother Suze heard it all.
Suze out of respect for this young love which, after all, must still occupy a sacred spot in her life never expresses but the mildest resentment of Bob but letting her sister speak for her she says that ‘she (Carla) felt I was better off without the lyin’ cheatin’ manipulative bastard.’ Right on all counts I’m sure except for the last although as Bob claimed to have no parents Carla could justly so surmise.
At any rate if Suze couldn’t make up her mind her mother and Carla could.
Ballad In Plain D again:
Beneath a bare light bulb the plaster did pound
Her sister and I in a screaming battleground,
And she in between, the victim of sound,
Soon shattered the child ‘neath her shadows.
The wind knocks my window, the room it is is wet.
The words to say I’m sorry, I haven’t found yet.
I think of her often and hope whoever she’s met
Will be fully aware of how precious she is.
And then Bob married Sara and ruined her life.
While Suze and Bob talked marriage there is no reason to take that seriously; he talked marriage with Echo too. I don’t think Bob had any notion of marrying aouside his faith. The mother is the culture carrier; Bob is firmly within the Jewish culture so there could have been no chance that he would have taken other than a Jewish wife. Even then he may have married only to fulfill the commandment to be fruitful and multiply. Once he had fulfilled that duty he broke the marriage apart.
The Slum Goddess
Suze was now a young woman of twenty or twenty-one alone adrift in New York City. While she and Bob were having their tempestuous romance the times they were a changin’.
Tim Leary, up in harvard, had embraced psychedelics. Once in love with LSD he wanted to share his love with everyone. He became the High Priest of his psychedelic religion. I can recommend both his autobiography and his volume of reminiscences: High Priest. The latter is a spectacularly well written book if tending toward tediousness.
Leary’s experiments attracted the dark angel of the Hippie years, Allen Ginsberg. Ginsberg also attached himself to Dylan tying the Beat and Hippie decades together. Vile man.
Bob had introduced Suze to Marijuana and what else I don’t know, perhaps LSD. He himself was into the pharmacopeia also undoubtedly dabbling in heroin although if he did he is still an addict or was successful in kicking the habit after his retreat from fame in ’66. That whole thing about the motorcycle accident may have been just rehab. He sure needed it.
As Bob notes the effect of LSD on the Greenwich Village folk scene was to turn people inward destroying any sense of community. Suze then was attempting to navigate this terra nova. Along with turning people inward, LSD, the drug scene, turned the scene sexually rasty in ways even the Communists couldn’t have imagined. The Pill coming along at this time certainly was as influential as LSD in changing sexual mores.
Suze, if aware of this, makes no mention of it in her auto. The Fugs released Slum Goddess in 1965 although they may possibly have been playing it around the Village for a year or two earlier. The Slum Goddess is not a savory woman.
That Suze was selected as the first Slum Goddess strikes my sensibilities as a negative compliment. Her presentation of it implies a souring experience. Shortly after her selection she chose to withdraw from Village life. She gives as the reason that her earlier relations with Bob caused upleasant curiosity and that was certainly true.
The scene turned absolutely rotten after 1968 when between drugs, profound negativity and the progressing degradation of the Hippie movement anyone with any sense of dignity was driven out.
Suze must have been one of us for she left the scene behind. There are few today who choose to remember it. As for me, life is life, there it was and there was I. I was who I was; je ne regret rien. I hope Suze doesn’t either. Bob? He just stays on the bus and doesn’t get off. Reality can be such a drag.