Pt. II Time Traveling With R.E. Prindle
Pt. II: Time Traveling With R.E. Prindle
G.W.M Reynolds On Vice And Virtue
This essay will concentrate on the novels, Robert Macaire or, The French Bandit In England, The Mysteries Of London, Faust, and Wagner, The Wehr Wolf. Their respective dates were 1840, 1844-48, 1845-46 and 1846-47. As can be seen the latter two novels are encompassed by the dates of The Mysteries Of London and they must be related to the greater novel- two side excursions, so to speak.
We know that Reynolds went out on his own in a foreign country at the age of sixteen, going immediately to take up residence in France with a fair sized sum of money in his pocket inherited from his father as he hints in his novel Faust; then in 1833 at the age of nineteen he inherited a bit more through his mother. He was a natural scholar so that he studied extensively in many fields including literature and history. For such a young man, twenty-five and twenty-six in 1839-40 he writes with an astonishing, indeed, unbelievable maturity and knowledge both experientially and from study. Apart from being fictionalized his history seems to be accurate.
He is especially interested in vice and virtue in humanity. The configurations of his interest were formed by his reading of the Marquis de Sade; he read and internalized de Sade's novels Justine, Juliette and Philosophy of the Boudoir. While de Sade, from whom the term Sadism is derived, is probably known by name only to most. I append here a short biography so that the reader knows how I understand him. De Sade was born in 1740 and died in 1814, the year Reynolds was born so we may assume that de Sade was still something of a sensation when Reynolds hit Paris in 1830.
De Sade's fame as the source of the term Sadism was well earned although somewhat stale in the 21st century as films and novels have far surpassed his exploits. There is no longer anything to astonish in his novels. His problems began when his parents denied him marriage to the woman of his choice thus causing an extreme reaction. His reaction was so extreme and notorious, causing his parents such grief, that they had him imprisoned where he began writing his novels. Released by the French Revolution, which was crazier than himself, he functioned well. Napoleon, not so tolerant, had him committed to the famous insane asylum of Charenton. This aided immeasurably in making him a cult figure which he remains to this day.
He committed his grief to two most read novels, Justine and Juliette. He posited as a universal reality that a life of virtue led to unhappiness, pain and failure as characterized by Justine; and a life of libertinage and self-indulgence characterized by Juliette led to happiness and self-fulfillment.
When Reynolds read de Sade's novels between 1830 and 1837 isn't known. My guess is that he read them sooner than later and the antitheses between virtue and vice worked in him as he began writing.
Author of Mysteres de Paris and The Wandering Jew
An echo of Justine and Juliette can be found in the Mysteries of London. Reynolds transposes the sexes and has two male brothers Eugene and Richard Markham as protagonists. They are associated with two trees. (The symbolism of the two trees isn't yet clear to me.) A financial disaster hits the Markham family leaving it and them destitute. Eugene, following the path of Juliette's example opts for a life of crime to repair his fortunes while Richard decides to pursue virtue. They are to meet by the trees twenty years on to compare results.
This gives Reynolds the means to display his knowledge of vice and virtue. He certainly seems to know the ways of criminality. This investigation is continued in the first two novels written in conjunction with Mysteries titled Faust and Wagner the Wehrwolf. The first of his crime novels was Alfred de Rosann, quite astonishing as a novice novel, I will deal with it later, followed by Grace Darling, the Heroine of the Ferne Islands and the Robert Macaire or the French Bandit In England. After a hiatus of two years from 1842 to 1844 when he wrote nothing Mysteries began. Faust and Wagner were written in succession.
The third of his crime novels was Robert Macaire or the French Bandit In England.
One imagines that Reynolds first heard of the famous French bandit at the theater either in 1833 or '35 or perhaps he saw both. Macaire was a famous French highwayman, but as Reynolds has Macaire tell his sidekick Bertrand, times were changing and the place of the highwayman was becoming as obsolete as buggy whips would in the twentieth century. Thus while Macaire was involved in stagecoach situations his milieu was shifting to swindling and financial crimes. The future was clear. Reynolds has his ear to the ground.
Published in 1840 Macaire was his third effort following Pickwick Abroad. By this novel he has pretty well learned his craft although his powers will grow exponentially by Mysteries. Macaire is tightly plotted and well written with every evidence of Reynold's powerful mind. It shows little evidence of de Sade, clear evidence, even borrowing, from Frederic Soulie. Soulie was a French writer of ghastly crime/horror fiction who was, at least, an early model for Reynolds.
As in Mysteries of the Court of London an inspiring incident carried throughout the story ends it. The novel involves an enmity between the practitioner of virtue, Charles Stanmore, and the follower of vice, Robert Macaire. Close to the plots of de Sade's Justine and Juliette.
The novel opens with Macaire in France holding up a stage containing Stanmore and killing two people while sadistically tying Stanmore to one of the large wheels. If the horse hadn't remained still as Stanmore remarks he would surely have been killed by the revolving wheel. A sadistic crime in itself.
Papers taken from Stanmore tell of a banker in England who looks ripe for the plucking so Macaire and Bertrand head for England. It is not clear how these two desperadoes pass themselves off as businessmen, especially the clownish Bertrand but they do and Pocklington, the English businessmen invites them in, indeed, ask them to take up residence while in London. He has a beauteous sixteen year old niece, Maria, who falls head over heels for the forty some year old Macaire. As she is to inherit a large fortune Macaire plays the swain.
It so happens that Stanmore also has his eyes on Maria so he develops an inveterate hatred of his rival not realizing that the French bandit and Macaire are the same. Now, it also happens that Stanmore's father had disappeared on a journey to Lyons in France where he was to establish a new business five years previously. He had waylaid by Macaire, robbed and murdered in a town thirty some miles from Paris on the way to Lyons as will appear later in the story. Macaire was acting as a member of an organized ring of criminals to which he still belongs being one of the leaders.
After mentioning that Macaire is posing as the financial agent named LeBeau who he learns is now on his way to London the two bandits determine to kill him before he arrives to prevent his ruining their plans. Using old skills they waylay his stage on his way to London, brutally drag him from the stage and stab him to death. These two are thoroughly evil men. This is important because while Reynolds is contrasting virtue and vice, he also holds that virtue and vice are equally mixed in a person so that after a life of vice, Macaire will very improbably turn to a life of virtue. But, Reynolds believes he can and it's his story.
Stanmore becomes suspicious of Macaire and more especially Bertrand so he returns to France to investigate them. His findings lead him to an inn in the town in which his father was murdered. He is directed to the out of the way inn in which the murder occurred. The innkeeper intends to kill Stanmore for his money, but the latter overhears the plot being discussed and in the ensuing struggle kills the innkeeper. Questioning the innkeeper's wife about his father she points out the place in the inn where Stanhope's father's body was immured. Concentrating on opening the wall Stanhope fails to notice that the wife has set the building on fire and fled.
The wife runs for some woods where Stanmore overtakes her. Then borrowing an incident from Frederic Soulie (pronounced Souliay) he ties the woman to a tree while he goes back to main road and inn and forgets her in the rush of events. By the time he gets back to her she is dead, half eaten by varmints.
Macaire has to return to France to account for Lebeau's absence. Macaire gets into financial schemes and is recognized by the police and arrested. He would have been a goner except for his criminal network. Having pulled off a couple successful escapades Macaire does the necessary repairing to the gang's den to distribute their share of the booty. This gets an immediate reward when his confederates help him escape from two different prisons.
This brings up the question of Reynolds' own relationship to the law. Reynolds provides such exact descriptions of various prisons, police quarters, court affairs and prison customs that one wonders how he obtained his knowledge and familiarity. As a newspaperman he would have perhaps entered the various criminal retreats but that doesn't seem a satisfactory explanation. Dick Collins, an eminent researcher of Reynolds and the period of Penny Dreadfuls gives Reynolds a questionable character.
Collins seems to have ransacked official sources for his information but fails to reference them. In addition to cheating at dice, that rather indicates that Reynolds was one of the shifty hangers on in Paris that he mentions in Pickwick Abroad.
Collins says: Quote: It is alleged- on poor evidence- that Reynolds stayed at the expensive Long's Hotel in Bond Street and was arrested for trying to steal jewelry to pay the bill.
And there were a series of bankruptcies. One in France in which he was arrested in Calais trying to flee. Then in England in 1939 he spent six months in the Queens Bench Prison for unpaid debt. After becoming a leader in the Chartist movement he displeased the leadership because of unnamed financial schemes. So, let us say that Reynolds was probably flexible in his attitude toward strict probity. One does get that feeling.
One wonders then, was Reynolds personally aware of these criminal hangouts; did he actually mingle with them? His knowledge seems too precise for sheer invention. Also he seems too complimentary of the gendarmes who he says have absolute integrity and are the only upright characters in his novels. Was he trying to stay on their good side just in case?
In any event his descriptions of the prisons from which Macaire escapes are described in minute detail. Having once been caught in the meshes of the French police Macaire seems doomed to remain there as the police are hot on his trail after his last escape.
Now, at the inn at which Macaire had murdered his father, a beautiful young orphan girl, Blanche de Longville, had been placed there by Macaire who for some reason had been made her guardian. She had captured Stanmore's heart, making him forget Maria, and resulting in a marriage. They were living in a posh area in Paris.
Macaire, quite desperate to escape finds his way to Stanmore and Blache's mansion to throw himself on her mercy after maltreating through her teen years, expecting what that mercy might be wasn't clear. Stanmore returns home to find police combing the area and Macaire, his arch enemy, in his wife's boudoir. However Blanche manages to placate him explaining that if Macaire escapes the police and finds his way to Switzerland he is going to change his ways and end his days as the archetypal French bandit.
So, this Macaire, who had robbed him, possibly condemned him to death by tying him to the carriage wheel, actually murdered and robbed his father, beat him out for the love of the delectable Maria and other crimes too numerous to mention as well as heading up organized crime in France, throws himself on the mercy of Stanmore.
Well, love conquers all, doesn't it? Rather than offend his wife, Blanche, Stanmore forgives all, gives Macaire traveling money, lets him out the back door and directs the police in the opposite direction, and sententiously pats himself on the back for redeeming a hardened criminal. Reynolds has Macaire living out his days living quietly in Switzerland and that redeems his murders and crimes, for you see good and evil are equally mixed in men. No one is totally bad.
His next novel, Master Timothy's Bookcase concluded his first period and after a two year hiatus when, one presumes, Reynolds was recharging his batteries, perhaps searching for a more successful approach, organizing himself for the grand charge he began his magnum opus The Mysteries of London, that was a great compendium of crime. He was in fact inspired by Eugene Sue's Mysteres de Paris but Mysteries of London doesn't reflect much derivation from that work, however, this was apparently because he couldn't fit much of it into his story.
Wonderful details preyed on his imagination so that at the same time he was writing Mysteries he also wrote two longish novels, Faust in 1845-46 and Wagner the Wehr Wolf in 1846-48.
Faust is rather an extraordinary novel. Here his inspiration was derived from the European myth of the man who sold his soul to Satan. He combines this story with the story of the German criminal organization called the Holy Vehm. As an adjunct to all he gives an exciting account of the Borgias, Pope Alexander VI, Caesar and Lucretia, or Lucreza as he spells it, Borgia. An amazing novel.
In this novel Reynolds extends his field from France and England to encompass Central Europe—Germany, Austria, Carniola and Italy. Eventually he will draw a circle from England into the Mediterranean touching the Africa of Homer's Lotus Eaters, through the Dardanelles to Mingrelia or ancient Colchis where the Golden Fleece was kept through the Crimea thus encircling historic Europe. Interesting conception.
Whether he visited these parts during his period in France isn't clear and his details are fairly sketchy although fairly sharp for Italy. Carniola is an Alpine province of Austria along with Styria and Corinthia. Reynolds probably chose this province for a couple of reasons, the first because as no one had probably heard of it, it was therefore exotic and secondly because a ferocious sexual pervert who lived there in a castle as recorded by de Sade in his novel Juliette. This guy was so incredible that even de Sade hastened away.
Murder, crime and gore in profusion, Reynolds seems in a frenzy to outdo de Sade, Frederic Soulie and Eugene Sue combined and a fine job he does of it too.
Eugene Sue in his magnificent Wandering Jew, that great Armageddon, as his story unfolds the great march of Cholera out of the East that advances at the rate of thirty miles a day closes in on the Paris of 1830 and its revolution of that year. Sue knew how to erase millions of people at a time. What a story, and it goes on for over a thousand pages. Now, if Reynolds did reach Paris in 1830 he must have witnessed the devastation caused by the Cholera epidemic or, at the very least, its aftermath which would have been a topic of conversation. If as Collins suspects he arrived in 1833 he still would have heard stories of the great Cholera terror. If the hints in Reynolds novel, Grace Darling, are correct he places the time of that novel in 1833 so he might likely have still been in England at that time. His descriptions of the Revolution of 1830 in Alfred de Rosann are so sketchy that he may not have arrived in France in 1830 on the heels of the action as he claims.
In Faust he replicates the Cholera epidemic of Sue when Faust orders Satan to create an immense bubonic plague in Vienna and Europe that like the Cholera epidemic rises in the East and rolls over Europe. Thus the spectre derived from Sue's Rodin makes its appearance in Reynolds. Further both the Cholera and bubonic plague are accurate history. Reynolds' Faust takes place from 1480 through the first decade of the sixteenth century. Reynolds is very careful with his dates so that events actually occurred in the years he indicates. The bubonic plague he mentions occurred between 1500 and 1503. Interestingly he doesn't blame fleas from rats in Genoa but, like the Cholera, has it arrive from the East. Current theories indicate that that may have been the case. The first plague of mid-fourteenth century swept through Europe so quickly that there must have been another source than ship rats. In the first place no crew would have been immune to the flea bites hence the Med would have been filled with ghost ships while the spread would have been slower and the diffusion more easily traced. Reynolds always appears to have read and thought deeply.
Faust is essentially a historical novel so that the eruption of Vesuvius in 1485 is accurate but the accuracy of the description of the actual eruption must be fictional. The eruption was however a major one.
So also Reynolds account of the Borgias is historically accurate allowing for description and motives to be interpretations. The villains of Sue's Wandering Jew are the religious sect of the Jesuits, Reynolds replaces them with the German organization of the Holy Vehm whose description is accurate given a little novelistic license. What we have here, then, in this story is a magnificent contrast between virtue and vice, good and evil. The contrasts are carried out on many levels. The Vehm operates as a government within the government just as the Jesuits were a church within the church. In this case the Austrian government is upright but the Holy Vehm is not. Faust once he has sold his soul to Satan is the representative of a blend of virtue and vice with vice having the upper hand. Faust as the story develops is guilty through his machinations of the deaths of millions. As the representative of vice Faust's counterpart is Otto Pianella who represents undivided virtue. Faust's wife represents virtue, or Justine, while Faust's mistress, Ida, Otto's sister, represents Juliette or vice. Of course, she is as nothing compared to the mighty Lucreza Borgia, the scariest woman who ever lived.
Reynolds while considered a feminist is, actually, a realist. In general, he deplores the manner in which women are treated but he isn't so silly as to believe all women are above reproach, thus one has a variety of female types. Lucreza Borgia in the novel is a willful completely evil woman while Nisida in the next novel, Wagner the Wehr Wolf is a 'strong' woman but a blend of good and evil. Thus, Reynolds avoids the sappy feminist sentiment of the present.
He was perhaps overawed b Lucreza's ruthless exercising of her will so that there is no good mixed with her evil. Lucreza was not going to go to Switzerland and while away her time after the Borgias' power was destroyed.
Mortally offended by de Sade's dictum that vile living always succeeds on this Earth while virtue always leads to unhappiness, in this novel practicing virtue succeeds while vice fails. Perhaps in Sue's breathtaking Armageddon in which all the characters but one are immolated, Reynolds changes the end so that each virtuous character lives happily in the end while all the vicious characters die or end unhappily.
The Holy Vehm is destroyed, Ida checks out early, the Borgias seemingly on the way to success are thwarted, first their power is broken, then as fugitives Caesar Borgia after a number of failures is killed in an ignominious battle in Spain while Lucreza suffers a horrible death at the hands of her husband on the island of Lissa belonging to the Duke of Ferrara near Venice. This is one of the most terrifying depictions in the novel. Disregarding Lucreza's terrible reputation the Duke of Ferrara espouses her with the assumption that she will reform her wicked ways, that is, give up vice.
Apparently, she has until Otto Pianella and his family are marooned on the way back to Vienna by snowstorms in the Julian Alps of Carniola. They put up on Lissa which comes to Lucreza's attention. She arrests Otto and places him in the Iron Coffin. I won't replicate the entire story that Reynolds makes as suspenseful as possible, but the Iron Coffin is a large room made of iron shaped like a giant coffin. The walls are moveable and gradually compress down to the size of an actual coffin in which the victim is entombed, where he gradually dies of starvation and dehydration.
As Otto's situation grows dire Satan appears offering him the Faustian deal. No, no, says Otto, never, never, I put my faith in a higher power. So, in a choice between vice or virtue Otto remains true to God, or virtue. Well, one of Lucreza's retinue finks to the Duke who is outraged that Lucreza has violated her oath so, at the last moment he releases Otto, justifying Otto's trust in God, while condemning Lucreza to what would have been Otto's fate. Thus, the terrible end of the truly vicious Lucreza Borgia.
Now, we are down to Faust himself. Faust had driven a lousy bargain with Satan receiving only twenty-six years of seeming prosperity and unlimited power. Now both hands of the clock, or clysidra, clocks hadn't been invented yet, are pointing straight up. Remembering Reynolds' description of the 1485 eruption of Vesuvius Satan takes Faust to the edge of the boiling caldera and after a lengthy triumph and lecture Satan pushes Faust in.
De Sade is repudiated, the results of Justine's and Juliette's lives are reversed and Reynolds triumphs over the Marquis de Sade.
While the main novel, The Mysteries Of London, raged on in its contests of virtue and vice, Reynolds began another rather lengthy novel he titled Wagner the Wehr Wolf.
And why not? While good and certainly interesting it doesn't quite toe the mark made by Faust. Faust was well above the average while Wagner is closer to average but still with all of Reynolds' inventiveness.
Too few people die and Nisida the villainess is a pale reflection of Lucreza Borgia, but still no slouch as a 'strong' woman. Nor is there a Jesuit Order or the Holy Vehm, just a highly organized criminal gang that is terrorizing Florence Italy. Reynolds may have lifted that idea from Dumas' Count of Monte Christo and the gang in the Italian catacombs. The main story takes place in Florence but changes location to more exotic places including Constatinople, name not yet changed to Istanbul, and Sicily.
Reynolds' geography embraces a rather large area from England, France, Central Europe, the Balkans, Italy to just off the coast of Africa to include the Greek Islands, Western Anatolia and Mingrelia on the East Coast of the Black Sea, formerly the Colchis of the Argonauts then turning west to the Crimea following in the tracks of the Argonauts and that pretty well encompasses the parameters of historical Europe. One wonders how Reynolds is writing all these novels, maintaining a growing family, keeping up on his reading and accumulating fairly detailed historical studies and he wrote several historical novels, Faust being one.
The adoption of a fantastic Werewolf story seems strange, but then, James Malcolm Rymer, his contemporary Penny Dreadful author was scoring big with his novel Varney The Vampire and would soon after write the classic story of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Sweeney Todd, a hit musical fifty years ago was the barber who turned his customers into sausages and sold them to another set of customers. Who would believe cannibalism in nineteenth century England?
Varney the Vampire, an incredibly long novel must have nudged Reynolds' interest in that supernatural direction so he chose to explore another of the great medieval myths or legends of Medieval Europe, that of the Wehr Wolf. So, really, this era produced the subject matter for the next hundred and fifty years or so, Frankenstein, Faust, Varney the Vampire, Sweeney Todd and Werewolves and organized crime. The Curse of the Mummy would come later.
Wagner has a highly organized criminal gang that is central to the story maintaining its connection to the main frame of Mysteries of London. It is a true underworld inhabiting caverns deep into the earth. Whether meant intentionally or not by Reynolds its lower levels rest next to the lower levels of the Catholic nunnery that has an extensive underground. The doings in the nunnery in its underworld are as criminal as those of the criminals only a few feet awaythrough the rock. The two worlds are blended when the crime world is attacked, and the walls accidentally broken through and down. Thus, both the criminal underworld and the equally criminal nunnery were destroyed.
Reynold's religious interests are intriguing. At this time in his life Reynolds was thirty-two. The Mysteries had solved his financial problems to this moment so his mental comfort zone was probably elevated. He had every reason to believe he could continue his success although the success of his future blockbuster, Mysteries of the Court of London might have astonished even him. At any rate he was relieved of youthful anxieties; he was successfully launched.
How he developed, or found time to develop his religious ideas isn't obvious to me. Collins alleges that he did write a book of biblical criticism in 1833 when he was only 19 years old and would have had to have been in London at that time. At this point he has the North European abhorrence of the Catholic Church although an apparent strong belief in the existence of God or a deity, however, that could have been a front so as not to offend the reading public. His attitude toward the Moslem world seems to be a tolerant affection. Wagner makes a visit to then Constantinople, now Istanbul, a mere twenty-five years after the Christian capital fell to the Moslems. He forms connections and in order to free Florence from the dominion of the criminal gang he marches a Moslem army to Florence to do it. I must say I read that episode with a certain amount incredulousness.
One imagines that his fantasy was that he could unite the two worlds. The novel was placed in the years following 1516, a mere twenty-four years after the Moorish expulsion from Spain and the completion of the Reconquista. The Moslem slave raids probably hadn't begun and from this time to 1830 when the French annexed Algeria and wiped out the Corsairs, the Moslem predations on the Mediterranean coast was constant. Eugene Sue's The knight of Malta is a good representation of the situation and reads as well as Reynolds.
Sue, as Reynolds, was entranced with Byron's epic poem The Corsair; the sentiments seem to coincide with their own. Indeed, The Knight of Malta can be read as Byron's poem in novelized form. The opening lines of Byron establish the mental state:
O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway—
Our flag the scepter all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
To a large extent The Corsair forms a part of the mental equipment of all these early Victorian authors.
In addition to Christian and Moslem concerns one considers his evaluation of the Jews as an independent nation living in and on its host; this is difficult because Westerners have been indoctrinated and conditioned to believe that Jews are innocent victims. They are not, not in Hellenic times, not in Roman times and not in Medieval times and certainly not now. During early Christian times they were given the greatest boon that could be imagined: the monopoly of loaning money at interest. Christians, the Catholic Church, laid its congregation at the feet of the Jews to be exploited.
Do not believe that the Jews became money lenders because they were forced to. They have always been money changers. They did so on the porches of the temple where Jesus overturned their tables as sacrilegious. As usurers, even the simplest mind could easily figure out that the entire money supply must inevitably be in their hands. Nor did they loan on reasonable terms but at expropriatory rates of forty or fifty percent for a single day. The West was impoverished so that in Florence first, a State pawn shop was instituted to save both the State and its people financial grief. Other cities followed Florence's example.
Thus Reynolds introduces us to the Jewish money lender, Issachar. Now, both Reynolds and Dickens had had their run in with Jewish damage controlmen. Dickens was disciplined over his Jewish character in Oliver Twist, Fagin. Reynolds had been dressed down for some remarks in Grace Darling.
Jewish emancipation from the rule of the Catholic Church had begun in France by Napoleon after 1800, by 1840 it was working its way through Central Europe. The Jews qua Jews didn't become powerful until after Napoleon's defeat and Nathan Rothchild's capture of the English currency in 1815. As a result of England's victory the Rothschilds were in the early stages of consolidating their power. Naturally one of the first steps was controlling the press and publishing, at that time the only effective means of disseminating information. By the time of Wagner Disraeli had published most of his novels and was becoming a power in the State. Both Dickens and Reynolds had heeded their chastening, Dickens submissively and Reynolds with his usual cheek.
Issachar is portrayed as the archetypal Yiddish money changer living in dirty squalid quarters but above the physical portrayal of the usual Jewish caricature he is lauded as the long suffering noble victim, a man of virtue unfairly maligned and Jews so for millennia. Thus Reynolds has fulfilled his obligation to laud the Jews. He describes Issachar as a man of integrity however Issachar is the biggest cheat and crook alive. Nisida's mother had pawned the family diamonds with Issachar, however, Issachar without hesitation steals the diamonds replacing them with paste. The father being something of an expert immediately discovers the imposture. Issachar justifies himself in some unsatisfactory way and Reynolds blithely goes on about the long suffering Jews.
It is generally thought therefore that Reynolds was genuinely sympathetic to the Jews. I'm not sure that's true. I think he was just doing to wise thing so he could go on publishing.
For story continuation, we have Wagner, a ninety year old man, living deep in the Black Forest of Germany with his beauteous grand-daughter. Reynolds is very keen on sixteen year old beauties. They abound in his stories. According to Dick Collins Reynolds married his wife Susannah when she was seventeen. Collins says Reynolds may have been her second husband, she having already been taken to wife at 14.
Clara, Wagner's granddaughter and main support, disappeared one day no one knew where. Wagner is unable to support himself and about to expire when a demon appears offering to restore him to youth. This a much better deal than Satan offered Faust in the previous novel. All Wagner has to do is spend one day a month as a wolf. He knows the day because his fate is based on the lunar calendar. The contract ends when Wagner fails to honor it. As can easily be seen this, on the face of it is good deal, what makes it a great deal is Wagner also gets a substantial guaranteed annual income. Wagner may be old but he is no fool; he signs the deal.
Now a sprout of forty with cash in hand Wagner need no longer skulk about the woods of the Black Forest where all things strange happen. Anyone who is up with German stories of this period knows there are so many desperadoes haunting these woods that they are no place for a fun loving young Wehr Wolf. Wagner hies himself to Florence, Italy where the climate agrees with his clothes.
There he runs into his granddaughter Clara. It wasn't easy to pass himself off to her as his grandfather but like any young guy of independent means Wagner is a smooth talker.
He then finds some digs and runs into Nisida, the daughter of a Lord who, in fact, turns out to be the reason that Clara disappeared from the Black Forest. He has persuaded the virtuous and beautiful Clara to abandon her virtue and become his secluded mistress. Daughter Nisida learns this determining to kill Clara and therein hangs the tale.
Reynolds throws in the description of some of Wagners transformations which are exciting and well done. On his monthly rampage Wagner merely tears through the countryside like a tornado.
The other part of interest is at the end when Wagner establishes contact with the Rosicrucian Order in Sicily. This perhaps establishes Reynolds' own religious position. He is a Rosicrucian. He is said to have been a Deist so that fits. I rather accept that Rosicrucianism was his faith. Having studied the religion somewhat I consider myself a Rosicrucian also if one needs a label. And we all do.
Between 1844-48 then Reynolds has launched his career successfully with his Mysteries of London, worked through his French period and examined a major legend of Germany and Central Europe.
In Part III I will deal with Dickens early output in relation to Reynolds.
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Eugenics and Dysgenics Pt. 2a: Actions and Reactions
Eugenics And Dysgenics Pt. 2a
Actions And Reactions
The fabulous nineteenth century progressed from Enlightenment to sound scientific knowledge with an accelerating pace that meant that what was learned in one's youth was passé in one's maturity. Thus the knowledge of a sixty year old was out of date for a thirty year old. The eternities were disturbed. Initially overwhelmed, by century's end the forces of reaction had had time to realign and offer challenges to the new world of knowledge even as their reaction to the new knowledge had been surpassed by newer more current knowledge.
It was in this state of confusion that the world entered the new even more rapidly evolving twentieth century that left the nineteenth century in the dust. And, this quick evolution was very unevenly distributed. It was shared by no other place on Earth than the US/Canada and Europe, that is the Aryan race. From those locations scientific knowledge began to be distributed by the Aryans throughout the world. Assimilation to the scientific knowledge was not easy and still has not been achieved.
As the Western world entered the Post WWI years the glories of what was called the Victorian Age, once revered, became despised. But they would reemerge in the twenty-first century as Steampunk.
One of the more interesting reactions came from the re-emergence of the Romantic era as the neo-Romantic era that flowered from nineteen-nineties through the outbreak of WWI and has persisted into the twenty-first century as science fiction, horror and fantasy- three different expressions of the demolished fairy world.
To return to the nineteenth century. The neo-Romantics could not return to the Land of Faerie unaffected by scientific achievements. The literature of the neo-Romantics was as beautiful as that of the Romantics. Several seminal works were to persist in influence through the twentieth century to the present. Of first magnitude was Robert Louis Stevenson's novella Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Published in 1886 it incorporated elements of the psychological unconscious that were then emerging. The story ranks among the most influential. Naturally there was a great difference in the dissemination of the story between the two centuries.
In the twentieth movies had come into existence and by 1927 the talkies began to replace silent films. This was revolutionary. With sound, movies came into their own. I'm sure a silent film of Jekyll and Hyde was made but it was the first sound version that gave the story universal distribution. Many versions and variations were made of Stevenson's story some of which distorted the original story to the point of unrecognition. The original sound version is the one most people know, or knew. As that version is now nearly a hundred years old several generations may never have seen it except for film buffs. The novel version is quite different from all film versions.
Looking back toward the late Victorian Age the movie makers make Dr. Jekyll a rather stuffy academic type who, as a chemist, or possibly an alchemist, while experimenting discovers a drug that releases him from all inhibitions letting the evil or mostly evil unconscious of Jekyll emerge as Mr. Hyde
This in itself was an expression of the understanding of the unconscious. The discovery, or examination of the unconscious began with Dr. Anton Mesmer in the eighteenth century and by Stevenson's time in 1886 when his story was published was a well-known phenomenon among the cognoscenti. In Stevenson's story Jekyll had been a wild and rowdy lad in his youth and longed to relive those golden days. Many drugs, including absinthe, were in use already in those days thus their effect on personality being noted so that Jekyll using some sort of concoction was able to remove his inhibitions with disastrous consequences.
Literary characters of dual personalities began to pop up everywhere. One duo, as influential as Stevenson's was Conan Doyle's marvelous creation of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. It isn't noted that the two were complementary aspects of the same personality.
Perhaps the writer most devoted to the Jekyll-Hyde problem was the fantastic American late neo-Romantic writer, Edgar Rice Burroughs.
This extraordinary writer was perhaps at one and the same time the most Romantic, scientific, fantasy and horror or proto-sci-fi author of all time. He carried the Jekyll-Hyde story to new heights and wide variations.
In his first published novel, A Princess Of Mars, his chief character, John Carter, who had survived the split personality of the US in the Civil War as a Confederate officer, while running from an Indian war band of the post-civil war Western era stumbles on a cave of strange provenance where he abandons his body to be, one assumes, spiritually transmitted to Mars. Thus, this photo-copy of himself takes up a career on Mars while his body remains in the cave on Earth.
Another novel, one that made Burroughs' life, Tarzan of the Apes, followed a year later. In this story Tarzan, or John Clayton, to give his civilized name, was born on the coast of Gabon in Africa to noble English parents who were killed by the 'Great Apes'. These Apes are of no known species, perhaps they were meant as the Missing Link, a great evolutionary trope of the day when it was thought there was a single link between apes and humans that was missing.
Rescued from death by the ape Kala, who had lost her own 'balu' or baby, the baby Tarzan was reared as an ape. His ape name Tarzan thus means 'white skin' as opposed to the hairy black apes. While not exactly having super powers, yet Tarzan as a boy discovers his parents tree house containing a primer or two intended for John Clayton's future education, he teaches himself through pictures and texts how to read and thus discovers he is not an ape at all but a human being. Thus in Jekyll and Hyde terms he becomes the Man-Beast. Stevenson's novelette had been read by Burroughs who entered into the notion of dual personality whole heartedly. Thus, when wearing civilized clothing Tarzam is a cultured English lord but when he strips to the loin cloth he becomes an actual beast. Still intelligent but a sort of noble savage. Tarzan had other dual personalities. At one time a look alike named Esteban Miranda challenges him for the love of his wife while Tarzan is repeatedly bashed in the head at which he becomes a different amnesiac personality. Dual personality was a real fixation of Burroughs. He himself was cracked on the head at the age of twenty-two which definitely changed his own personality.
Burroughs was sort of an odd duck. He was a wide reader and the stories he read seemed to take on an independent existence in his head so that he apparently couldn't differentiate his original story from a variation on someone else's story so that in the sequel to Tarzan of the Apes, The Return of Tarzan, he retells Edgar Allan Poe's story, The Murders In The Rue Morgue as his own. I'm not sure how his career survived that unless a very few of his readers had ever read Poe. Poe wasn't especially well thought of at this time. However his editor Metcalf surely had. Metcalf rejected the novel but Return was later picked up by another magazine desperate for a Tarzan story.
Burroughs even titles his story 'What Happened In The Rue Maule. Even though the source of Burroughs story is easily recognized in Poe's story today still Burroughs manages his details in such a way that it seems a new and almost original story.
In Poe's story the split personality is the lead character C. Auguste Dupin, the is CAD and the unnamed narrator. It should also be mentioned that Poe explored the dual personality in several of his stories of the 1830s-1840s including the remarkable William Wilson. Poe obviously suffered from a split personality.
In Burroughs' story the suave cultured Tarzan now living in Paris, at the sight of blood reverts back to this savage upbringing among the apes, becoming a ravening beast. In Poe's story an escaped Orang outang commits the murders, in what is essentially a locked room story and escapes.
In Burroughs story a hereditary enemy by the name of Rokoff sets up a situation to lure Tarzan into a building and apartment where there are a half dozen villains waiting to kill him. How Rokoff would know that Tarzan would be walking down the most villainess street in Paris, ask any policeman as Burroughs writes, isn't adequately explained.
Nevertheless, hearing a woman's screams of distress Tarzan rushed into the building, Rue Maule #27, third floor, Burroughs was always great at details, where in a sort of Badger game he discovers the woman and a roomful of villains. 'Yoicks' or something similar, he says, and the melee begins as Tarzan begins to demolish the mini mob out to injure him. Rokoff waiting outside quickly finds a phone, cell phones were not yet invented, while one is surprised to find one so easily available in Paris at this time. The point is that Rokoff calls the police to tell them there is a riot going on at #27, third floor. Still a savage beast although dressed in the height of fashion Tarzan flattens the cops, blows out the candle, phones being available in #27 but not electricity, and leaps out the window onto an adjoining telephone pole not unlike Poe's Orang, scampers across the rooftops of Paris, as the telephone pole is taller than the third floor, similar to swinging through the jungle trees, drops to the ground, steps into a corner drug store to use the toilet to tidy up and wash his hands then, this is the word Burroughs uses, saunters, down the block just like any bored boulevardier. There you have Poe rewritten into a story only slightly inferior to the original.
Amazingly Poe's story served as a basis for Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories, Holmes and Watson replacing Poe's Dupin and narrator.
In this tremendously creative period another of the great genres persisting down till today was Bram Stoker's incredible version of the vampire Dracula on which today's versions of vampires are based. Stoker did not create the vampire character, there are earlier examples including Polidori's short story that set the rage off. Among other versions Varney The Vampire a long novel by Rymer in mid-century really developed the theme and from blood sucking vampires, the psychic vampire also emerged. Our times' Anne Rice had made a career out of vampire stories.
A creation of the first Romantic period, Mary Shelley's man created life, Frankenstein and his monster, evolved into a whole genre of androids, robots and various forms of artificial humanity. Interestingly the ubiquitous Edgar Rice Burroughs offered his contribution of The Monster Men, as he covered almost all the modern genres adding The Mastermind Of Mars to the catalog of artificial life in the 1930s. He even managed to attach Henry Ford's mass production methods to the process.
The reaction against the nineteenth century scientific revolution was epitomized by the Pre-Raphaelites of England. They were called Pre-Raphaelites because they rejected all society after the artist Raphael. Following in their tradition William Morris wrote a number of haunting nostalgia novels that are quite charming but overly sentimental.
Perhaps my favorite of the neo-Romantics is the English writer George Du Maurier and his three novels, Peter Ibbetson, Trilby and The Martian. Du Maurier himself was a Frenchman who was removed to England in youth causing a sort of split personality in himself. For a couple decades he made a name for himself writing and drawing for the great humor magazine of the period Punch. Then he was passed over when the editorship opened up; that was more than he could he bear. He quit and began writing his novels. Apparently his talents had been under appreciated at Punch as his great success took the magazines contributors by surprise.
The first novel, Peter Ibbetson was well thought of but didn't establish him. His second, Trilby, was a smash mega seller influencing the Mauve Decade of the Nineties to its roots. His villain Svengali is still widely used to describe a person who seems to control another under the influence of hypnotism. Du Maurier died as his last novel, The Martian, was published. It is a lovely book. I like it, but it does not have the concentration of the first two. However it's proto-sci-fi fantasy theme is very interesting for the right minds, overall the three are a great trilogy. A fourth was projected dealing with politics but the Grim Reaper came between it and Du Maurier.
George might be considered the arch-typical neo-Romantic. His influence is probably greater than realized. His themes have been reopened by writers like the great American novelist, Richard Matheson.
For Du Maurier memory was everything, and in his mind, that necessitated life after death or as he thought, what good was having accumulated them. His novels are monuments to memory. Born in 1834 he spent his childhood in France a childhood he turned into a fairyland; he was removed to England as a youth and the two national characters lived side by side in him as two almost distinct personalities. The writers of the first Romantic period fueled his memories, most notably the English poet, George Gordon, Lord Byron and the Frenchman Charles Nodier.
Nodier was the composer of the interesting short novel Trilby. In the 1890s Du Maurier would rewrite the story in his novel of the same name. In Nodier's novel Trilby was male fairy who visited the girl Jeannie in Scotland. As Nodier was writing in the Romantic period that was a revival, a last gasp itself, as fairies had been disproven by science. So Jeannie having revealed the visits of the fairy Trilby to her, she was treated as deluded and compelled to give up her friend Trilby. Then she sickened and died.
In Du Maurier's novel, Trilby, his middle or second novel, he reverses the sexes of the duo making Trilby a young woman and turning Trilby into the evil hypnotist, the Jewish Svengali.
The story is placed in Paris in the 1850s where Du Maurier was an artist living the Bohemian life in the classic age of Bohemianism. Du Maurier portrays an ideal beautiful fantasy life with boon companions and a carefree Bohemian existence. Trilby is a grisette or what might have been called a 'hippie chick' in our own 1960s, an artist's model or whatever but virtuous unlike the other grisettes.
She and the Little Billee character of Du Maurier fall in love. Little Billee is modeled after his namesake in Thackeray's poem of the same name. The romance is scotched when Little Billee's aristocratic mother visits him and rejects Trilby as a daughter-in-law.
Another regular visitor to the atelier was a beteljew named Svengali. He was also a musician and musical theorist who played piano well. He noted that Trilby's oral cavity was perfect for a great singer however Trilby couldn't carry a tune and could scarcely hit a note. After her rejection by Billee's mother, the gang breaks up with Billee and his friends returning to England.
A few vicissitudes find Trilby at the hypnotist Svengali's door. Her oral cavity now belongs to him. Returning to his native precincts in Poland Svengali after hypnotizing Trilby makes her sing like a bird. To shorten the story, in a Jenny Lind like career, Trilby and Svengali take Europe by storm.
While visiting Paris Billee and friends reuniting for the moment, watch Trilby and Svengali's triumphant entry into Paris. Svengali spots them watching and gives Little Billee a hard look. The shows were sold out so the trio missed them but were first in line for the London shows in the first box. Trilby could only sing while making eye contact with Svengali. He made the mistake of looking up to see Billee. A jealous rage overcame him, his eyes popped, he went apoplectic, croaking on the spot. Without eye contact Trilby returned to herself and could only croak off key and out of tune. The audience was merciless.
Trilby became sick and withered away. Her dying words were Svengali, Svengali, Svengali.
Thus, Nodier's story was reversed and told in the most charming manner, neo-Romantically.
In the telling Du Maurier wove a lifetime of memories, musical and literary, reincorporated Bohemian Paris at its peak, a Jenny Lind type story at the end and the then current fascination with hypnotism. A thoroughly pleasing mix. He transfigures his life into a fairy tale.
Nearly the same fairy tale he used in his first book, Peter Ibbetson. I'm not sure I could call Ibbetson a great book but the three novels together are a sui generis. Events fit into a sci-fi context but yet are more ethereal, other worldly. Du Maurier's inventions are really quite daring as he seeks to relate to reality yet evades it as much as he can, blending the inner with outer world in a tantalizing manner. Memory, always memory but a memory made immediate.
E.T.A. Hoffman's introduction to his tale 'A New Year's Adventure' explains the feeling better than I can:
The Travelling Enthusiast from whole journals we are presenting another "fancy flight in the manner of Jacques Callot ," apparently not separated the events of his inner life from those of the outside world; in fact we cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. But even if you cannot see the boundary very clearly, dear reader, the Geisterseher may beckon you to his side, and before you are even aware of it, you will be in a strange magical realm where figures of fantasy step right into your own life, and are as cordial with you as your oldest friends.
Du Maurier captures that feeling perfectly and if you enter into his fabulous story of memory and reality co-existing together seamlessly you will be carried along to a supreme adventure. E.T.A. Hoffman himself was from the first Romantic era, one of its stellar authors. The divine muses, Calliope and Clio, not only sat on his shoulders whispering, but entered his head and dictated his stories. I have no idea whether Du Maurier read Hoffman but Hoffmann was in the same time frame as Charles Nodier who wrote the first version of Trilby.
Du Maurier was familiar with the Romantic oeuvre. As with many nineteenth century writers Du Maurier was fascinated with the poems of Byron. He makes frequent references to the Giaour, one of Byron's tales. The poem seems to be a central fixation guiding Du Maurier's pen.
Peter Ibbetson tells the story of Ibbetson's crime, his incarceration, his descent into madness and removal from prison to the Colny Hatch, where he lives his life out. In France Ibbetson grew up with a little girl named Seraskier. He loved her greatly and the separation from her when he was taken to England was quite painful to him. And then, as if by magic, as a grown man living with his cruel uncle he attends a ball to discover Seraskier as a grown woman, the Duchess of Towers. Of course, a married woman, she is unobtainable but they begin a platonic love affair.
But then, Peter's nasty uncle raises Peter's ire and in a fit of anger Peter bludgeons him to death. He himself is condemned to be hanged but through the efforts of the Duchess of Towers and her powerful friends his sentence is commuted to life imprisonment. It is in prison that he loses control being transferred to the insane asylum.
It is while there that he discovers that he can enter the Duchess's dreams and she can enter his, and this is done on real terms and not imagination. They actually physically interact. He now lives to sleep and enter the alternate reality of his dreams shared with the Duchess. In a carefully elaborated system the two can travel anywhere they know having been there or do anything they have done in the outside world in the past. Thus memory is everything. The inner and outer worlds become one.
She is still married so that the relationship is platonic until her husband dies, and Peter and the Duchess can be lovers. Happy in his insane asylum where his sanest dreams are realized. Peter is supremely happy but then one night as he snuggles into bed drifting off to dreamland a terrible thing happens, as he reaches the portal from his dream to hers he finds it blocked, boarded up. With a cold shiver he realizes the truth, the Duchess has died.
Having completely entered this world of Du Maurier's I broke down in tears along with Peter. Of course his sanity or insanity is jarred and he collapses. But whatever gods may be had pity on Peter. As in ancient days they let the Duchess return to Peter's dream to console him and promise him that they would be together eternally. One assumes then that in death Peter found the happiness that had eluded him in life.
Today the theme has been explored in many variations, notably in Richard Matheson's Somewhere In Time and also his What Dreams May Come. I have no idea whether Matheson read Du Maurier but it is not improbable. Time has passed now and Victorian literature no longer holds the place it then did but Matheson was born well before me and for my age cohort there was no literature taught written after 1914 so there's no reason Matheson wouldn't have been familiar with a range of Victorian authors unread today.
Du Maurier's story at the time was as original as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde written a few years before. While The Martian, the last of the trilogy, is perhaps the weakest of the three it too is very innovative in a proto-sci-manner. It too is a memory capsule centered around the loss of vision in one of George's eyes. The loss seems to have been the result of a torn retina. Given the knowledge of the time there was no hope to save the eye but even then he fell in with a medical quack.
But, just as Ibbetson went to prison and the asylum and in the process discovered how to meld dreams with the Duchess of Towers, in this story he is contacted by a little fairy from Mars, the Martian of the story also named Martia. She attaches herself to the protagonist Barty Josselin. She is sort of a female Wandering Jew (another great European legend) who for centuries has been attaching herself to men as a sort succubus.
Her term as a Wandering Fairy is up. She is intensely in love with Barty so she arranges to become his next child who is a little girl he names Marty. At a young age Marty dies and Barty dies both souls are released at the same time so that together with Barty's memories they continue the journey after death to the heart of the sun.
Beautiful story, longingly told.
The neo-Romantic period coincided with the apex of European power in history as Europe had conquered the seas and continents of the entire world; all its peoples were its subjects. But, as always happens the moment of triumph begins the descent. Even in the first decade of the twentieth century there were those who knew that European power was in decline and then the Great War cut it short. The passing was commemorated in the American Madison Grant's great book: The Passing Of The Great Race. Before it did a great literature was written, written in the neo-Romantic style, in a sort of fair land style. The scramble for Africa had brought nearly the whole monstrously huge continent under European control, a blessing and a curse. In European writing it is depicted as a sort of wondrous fairyland.
Europe produced three great epics over its two thousand year span, the sprawling epic of which the Iliad and Odyssey are part, the huge Arthurian cycle and finally the search for the source of the Nile that embraces the discovery of Africa. Why the last should be true isn't clear.
The real life adventure was looking back at it the incredible search for the source of the Nile. England bent its energies on the search for the exact spot from which the flow of the White Nile trickled. Huge sums were spent and men devoted their very lives in the search and it produced a great literature. The solo adventures of Samuel Baker and his slave, also his wife, purchased in Hungary. The fabulous safaris of Henry Morton Stanley spanning tens of thousand of miles, his books reading like improbable adventure novels even far surpassing them while his own life was stranger than fiction. Perhaps his life is only believable as fiction. Disparaged now because they speak of a far gone time and even more ancient expectations and attitudes.
Kipling wrote of the Indian Raj when a few thousand Englishmen controlled a sub-continent. Joseph Conrad wrote his tales of the daring adventurers who seized Asian kingdoms.
Perhaps the greatest of all were the novels of the English writer H. Rider Haggard. He, the author of two of the greatest neo-Romantic adventure novels, King Solomon's Mines and single word title She. The title in full: She-who-must-be-obeyed.
The neo-Romantic period also saw the re-emergence of esotericism. It burst into full bloom in Madame Blavatsky's Isis Unveiled and her creation of Theosophy. It burst too late to be an influence on Haggard, at least his early career but Haggard seems to be fully conversant with its ideas. The novel She itself is said to be a perfect expression of Theosophy and that from Madame Blavatsky herself.
African romance after African romance rolled out of his pen, all of very high quality. Haggard commemorated the notion of the Elephant's Graveyard that fascinated generations up until perhaps the 1950s when the legend lapsed into infinity. One doesn't hear of it anymore.
The Imperial novels of that time while still heard of are definitely out of favor. More people wish it had never existed than care to remember it and explore its remains. More people would rather visit holocaust museums and gaze at the ashes of dead bodies.
However, Romanticism has continued to evolve. Many of the best stories of the pre-WWI era passed into the realm of boys' stories laying their riches at the feet of a couple three or four generations of lucky boys. Many also were preserved in the nascent talkie film industry, versions preserved on reels of film.
And still the need for the Land of Faerie persisted and Romanticism took a new turn scarcely recognized for what it was. Science had left that empty space that had to be filled. The Land of Faerie had to be reorganized. At first Mars replaced the Land of Faerie, seemingly safe at least 30 million miles distant from Earth and at other time half across the solar system. Martian stories began to make their appearance precisely during the neo-Romantic period. There was still room to speculate as high powered telescopes were still to be perfected. Camille Flammarion and Perceval Lowell could still write of dead seas and canals on Mars. The last of the neo-Romantics, Edgar Rice Burroughs, could still exploit faerie kingdoms on Mars but that could only last until the killer telescopes were developed.
The Universe began to expand rapidly through the twenties and thirties. As late as 1950 it was thought that the Universe was as small as 450,000 light years. But then it exploded through millions and hundreds of millions of light years and on into the billions. Mars was no longer tenable as a Fairy refuge. Ray Bradury wrote his Martian Chronicles and in the last chapter all the fairy tale characters were driven from their last refuge into oblivion.
About this time however Flying Saucers made their appearance. Is there anything more Fairy than Flying Saucers? Think about it. The alien abductions began; we discovered that we were being watched by little green men from distant planets and galaxies. Little green fairies? In the wonderful sci -fi of the Fifties writers worked up incredible scenarios. It was imagined that aliens from perhaps billions of light years away had exhausted their own mineral resources and wished to remove ours to their planets. The most imaginative of the sci-fi writers going by the name of William Tenn even posited that the inhabitants of the star Betelgeuse were building a bridge, a sort of conveyer belt from there to here to convey the resources. The logistics of that were too much for my young mind.
At that time also, the first few years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki radio active fall out was creating all kinds of monsters, human and otherwise, Giant Crabs came forth, fifty foot men, even the greatest of them all, matching Frankenstein, The Creature From The Black Lagoon. After Bikini and Eniwetok anything was possible.
Aliens landed, as in The Day The Earth Stood Still, to check out Earth's suitability to join the Intergalactic Peace League. This was shortly after WWII and during the Korean War so naturally the savage earth people were found wanting and not needed to disturb the peace prevailing throughout the intergalactic League. So, aliens, in this case Klaatu and Gort, hopped back in their Saucer leaving us with the admonition that they would check back in a few thousands of years to see if we had evolved.
Meanwhile, perhaps hundreds of saucers hovered over Earth from near space carefully observing us, occasionally crashing, once near Roswell, New Mexico where the search for the wreckage still goes on. Abductions continued.
A parallel development that was as influential as the space operas was the development of the super heroes. Perhaps the first of the super heroes were creations of the redoubtable Edgar Rice Burroughs with his creations of Tarzan and John Carter of Mars. Carter coming from the heavier gravity and atmosphere of Earth had actual super powers on Mars while if Tarzan didn't actually have super powers he could certainly do what no other human beings could do.
But, Time does not have a stop, or even stand still. Science and technology were rapidly moving ahead, especially in the print medium. Comic strips in the newspapers had been around from the 1890s but in the early thirties some genius invented what would become the graphic novel today, that is comic books. The comics were turned into illustrated four color folders at a dime a piece. How the comic book would have developed isn't clear. Since super heroes such as the Shadow and the Man of Bronze, Doc Savage had arisen to compete with the like of John Carter and Tarzan something extra was needed for the comic books, fortunately for the idiom a man named Adolf Hitler had assumed he governance of Germany. Adolf Hitler was a bete noir of the Jews and he stimulated their imagination in the US so that in 1938 the first issue of Superman (original title Action Comics) was released and the super hero with truly upper human powers and the very latest scientific gadgets came into existence. Batman, Capt. America and a host of others followed on the heels of Superman while WWII which started supplied prime grist for the comic book mill. The comics were a Jewish enterprise and the super heroes were therefore Jewish. And under the care of the very Jewish Stan Lee have remained so down to this day.
Aiding the super hero phenomenon since translated to film was the emergence of more science in the form of CGI (Computer Generated Images). With that addition the impossible could be made visible so that the human mind no longer had to grapple with mere reality. It conquered reality. Neo-Reality had arrived. Perhaps Faerieland had won after all.
Put all the above together and a new alternate reality or Land of Faerie had been created to fill he void left when Science had destroyed the possibility of the old Land of Faerie, even on Mars. The Universe was huge and there was no way to either prove or disprove the universe of Star Trek, a place where no man had gone before or was likely to go in the future. So, that fairyland is secure.
The Land of Faerie was only one imagined realm that had to be dealt with, there was also the imagined kingdom of God or the gods that was challenged out of existence. That in Part 2b to follow.
Posted in Civilization, Consciousness, Edgar Allan Poe, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Essays, H. Rider Haggard, H.M. Stanley, Psychology, R.E. Prindle, Science, Uncategorized, Writing | Leave a Comment »
Magic, The Land Of Faerie And The Liberal Mind
Magic, The Land Of Faerie
And The Liberal Mind
The March-April Issue Of Foreign Affairs:
A Discussion
The March-April issue of Foreign Affairs arrived and once again it is dedicated to the denunciation of President Trump. As is well known Foreign Affairs is the propaganda arm of the Council On Foreign Relations. The CFR is not merely an informational service, it is also a potent influence within the government of the United States. Many members have even served as President of the United States. In fact, the last four presidents covering twenty-four consecutive years, that is Bush, Clinton, Bush, Obama and had Hillary Clinton been placed a full twenty-eight, possible thirty-two years. Time enough to indoctrinate two and half generations.
Thus it was a bitter disappointment for them when Donald Trump made a run around end to win the White House. His mere candidacy had unleashed an unceasing barrage of hatred and since he has been under siege defending himself against innumerable CFR sappers. The March-April issue continues the assault. The five themed articles under the heading Letting Go are: Trump's Lucky Year, Why the Chaos Can't Last, The World After Trump, How The System Can Endure, The Rise Of Illiberal Hegemony: Trump's Surprising Grand Strategy, The Post-American World Economy: Globalization In The Trump Era and Giving Up The High Ground: America's Retreat On Human Rights.
As is evident the Liberal 'system' that the CFR presidents were putting in place and which would have been completed by the election of Hillary Clinton has been disrupted by the election of Donald Trump who is, in fact, dismantling the whole Liberal CFR system. Hence, an article on how the system can endure, one imagines, behind the scene: the so-called Dark Government.
This raises the question of what beyond specific goals as outlined in Foreign Affairs is the Liberal mind set. In the larger scope of human history to what psychological reality, Weltanschauung motivates the Liberal mind.
Many theories have been advanced about the motivating forces that direct human activity. The Hegelian/Marxist view is of course based on economics. But underlying theories such as Marxism is the fundamental dichotomy of the spiritual vs. the material. The fantasy of life vs. the reality. The Liberal utopian based 'spirituality' vs. the Conservative naturalistic based view of reality. The soft-headed vs. the hard-headed.
In many ways the Liberal mind is magical in nature. The Liberal desires and magically creates a reality that assumes that the desire is fact.
Thus Adam S. Posen who wrote the article The Post-American World Economy: Globalization in the Trump Era projects on the one hand the desire of the Liberal post-WWII system while on the other unconsciously contrasts the reality. The very title The Post-American World Economy contradicts the assumption that the Post-WWII US world order is still in operation. So, possibly, Trump is merely destroying the Liberal mental fantasy. Negating the magic. Post-American posits an end to the US domination and, indeed, under Obama the CFR destroyed the dominant role of the US with the result that a number of more or less equals are now jockeying for position.
Mr. Posen begins his article with the illusory view of this so-called seventy year post-war Liberal world order.
In the aftermath of World War II the United States set about building a global, rules base economic order. At the heart of the order it put the Liberal values of free trade backed up by U.S. power and bolstered by its growing legitimacy among other countries, prevented most economic disputes from escalating into mutually destructive trade wars, let alone military conflict. That allowed even the smallest and poorest countries to develop their social and economic potential without having to worry about predation by strange neighbors. By taking much of the fear out of the global economy, the U.S. led order allowed market decisions to be driven by business not bullying.
Adam S. Posen, The Post-American World
Economy: Globalization in the Trump
Era, pp 28-38
Having been present at the creation and having lived through the whole period in varying degrees of cognizance, I can tell you that the above view of the seventy years is contradicted fully by my own experience and understanding.
The problems of our times have become more difficult. The fantasy of the American Century has passed. It is no longer about 'things' but one of attitudes of which most that are held are not realistic. There is at the base of the matter still the conflict between the 'spiritual' and the materialist views; that is, the longing for the magical supernatural Land of Faerie vs. Science , or the reality of matter, or put another way religion vs. science. Let us review the evolution of human consciousness.
One must assume that early man was as unconscious as are wild animals today. In other words, early man had no rational explanation for external reality. And this extends back into hundreds of thousands, millions, of years of pre-Homo Sapiens existence. Presumably the more recent nomenclature homo sapiens, wise or knowledgeable man, indicates the beginning of consciousness of the world outside the mind. As it took until the twentieth century before psychologists began to significantly understand the working of the human mind it can be easily seen that the learning process was long and slow. Man was barely conscious of either his own mind or the world outside his mind, working with very little true knowledge he came up with some pretty bizarre explanations of how things functioned.
He invested all animate and inanimate objects with life and sensation. Thus he created the supernatural and the natural. The world was filled with invisible beings both good and bad. Gods and Devils, Faeries, Elves, Gnomes, Elementals. The air was packed with demons and angels and what have you. This was true down to and including the beginning of history and well beyond, even into the nineteenth century. Gods came and went, old gods died, gods who failed in their duties were discarded or transformed. Each people had their own gods. In the clash of peoples and therefore gods, peoples went under and with them their gods.
In this mental context I would like to examine the period in European history from 1100 to 1300, a very critical and rich period in Europe and the Middle East that would eventually affect the world when the European diaspora took place from c. 1400 to the beginning of the twentieth century.
By1300 the Catholic, that is the Universal, Church was the dominant supernaturally based force in Europe and the ME- Middle East. In order to confirm its position it had to eliminate all other supernatural belief systems. This was no easy task as other supernatural beliefs systems had the same credibility as the Christian and the Catholic Church was never completely successful. This was a wonderful period and I hope I can successfully display it with some justice.
There were many competing supernatural belief systems competing at this time, many remnants of old decayed and dying gods as well as their successors trying to establish themselves against the dominant Catholic Church.
The old Greco-Roman systems still survived in out the way places and pockets and even in the popular mind. The old Egyptian systems had been mutating since the Assyrian invasions of the seventh century BC. No longer with a national State to support the religion it had infiltrated Christianity to a degree and went on mutating over the centuries but was still a potent force as an element of the Catholic faith.
Of course the backbone of Catholicism came from the Jewish religious system through Christianity. The Catholic Church took over Jewish religious sites wholesale. Thus the erstwhile Jewish capital of Jerusalem became the holiest site of Christianity in Europe. With the founding of the Mohammedan religion of Arabia the so-called Holy City fell into non-Jewish-Christian hands.
As Europe reorganized and became somewhat unified under the Carolingian kings of France, the idea of the Holy City in Moslem hands became intolerable in Church eyes and so just prior to 1100 the Church instigated the idea of liberating Jerusalem giving the period under consideration the name of the Crusades.
This was done for supernatural reasons. On the European side one was under God and on the Moslem side one was under their deity who went by the name of Allah. Thus one had the War of the Gods.
The ME had always been a hotbed of competing supernatural religious ideas. Innumerable Gods and Goddesses. Some intriguing mental projections in the bargain. Generally speaking few if any had completely disappeared. If the actual religion has been suppressed the guiding ideas lived on.
The human mind has continued to evolve, that is consciousness, so that the internal unconscious mind has been enlightened toward a correct appreciation of the external world. That is, as Freud expressed it, the personality or mind is integrated when consciousness has illuminated the unconscious. The period under consideration was an important period in the evolution of consciousness. It should be remembered that any of these imaginary beings had equal validity in the consciousness of people of the times. God or Faerie, same thing.
The Aryan Land of Faerie has as much a claim to reality as did the God of the Jews, Isis of the Egyptians, Cybele, the God of the Christians, however as Jews and Christians were dominant the other imaginary deities were not disproved but ridiculed and suppressed. Thus, in this tremendous period of the Christian crusades to recapture the religious capital of Jerusalem there were many unintended consequences. The Crusades opened the gates to admit ideas from the other suppressed belief systems. Thus, the Cathar religion of Manichean sympathies had migrated West from Iran through the Balkans to gain a firm foothold in Southern France, also known as the Occitan.
This was a large trans-Alpine area including the Aquitaine. This area fostered the romances of King Arthur and the Round Table which was a Faerie kingdom. A land of magic and enchantment both anathema to Judeo-Christianity. The wonderful romances, far outshining the dull Jewish bible, were developed during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
Thus the Catholic Church was confronted by a number of competing belief systems. The Cathar problem was solved in the midst of the Middle Eastern crusades by a crusade against the Cathars. A genocidal war against the unfortunate Cathars was conducted by the French at the instigation of the Church. This involved an actual man hunt to destroy the Cathars root and branch. Apparently the Church remembered the Amalekites.
That solution was really easy for the Church but the Arthurian romances that involved England, France, Germany and associated peoples could not be dealt with so easily. Indeed, when the main assault came against the Church it would come from the three countries mentioned. They required boring from within, co-opting the ideology. Catholic writers thus chose to change the direction of the romances from a warrior cult to one of a quest for spiritual perfection. This was achieved through the introduction of the character of Galahad, the son of the nearly perfect but flawed knight, Lancelot of the Lake.
At the same time a French series of works called the Chansons de Geste- Songs of Adventure- were written to discredit the Land of Faerie. A key text along this line was an amazing story titled Huon of Bordeaux. Bordeaux was a key Cathar city, sort of the Faerie capital, bordering the the key Cathar stronghold of Mont Segur. Galahad ascended to heaven from that stronghold along with the Holy Grail to lay the Arthurian threat to rest.
Huon of Bordeaux introduces the king of the Faerie Land, Oberon. Oberon and God are in a contest to see which would most successfully aid Huon in his quest to exonerate himself from a punishment imposed by the ninth century king of France, Charlemagne. Bear in mind this was a contest between two imaginarily real gods, God and Oberon, king of the Faeries.
Huon, had violated chivalric protocol by successfully defending himself against Charlemagne's evil son, killing him in the process. Charlemagne then banishes Huon, allowing him back only if he succeeds in a number of seemingly impossible feats in the Holy Land against a Moslem king. Huon doesn't have a prayer, however passing through a forbidden forest in the Holy Land he is confronted by Oberon, king of the Faeries. This is equivalent to running into the Catholic God. Oberon, after extracting a number of vows, gives Huon a horn which if blown in dire straits Oberon will appear with a hundred thousand troops to rescue him. Huon is cautioned to never use it unless his situation is beyond redemption otherwise.
Huon is the light-headed sort so he blows the horn to test it. Oberon appears with his 100K troops but is miffed because Huon didn't follow instructions. In any event Huon through Oberon's aid performs the impossible tasks Charlemagne set him and returns to Bordeaux before returning to Paris and the king's court as instructed. Another boo-boo in a long string of boo-boos. Huon could have been the prototype of Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan.
While absent from his home his brother Gerard had usurped his role and now refuses to give it up. Further adventures intervene but Charlemagne in the end comes to Bordeaux to receive evidences of Huon's successes. Huon is unable to produce them as his brother has stolen them from him. At this time Oberon appears and magically exonerates Huon. As God had done nothing to help Huon one would think Oberon to be judged the greater than God but Huon irrationally chooses the ineffective God over Oberon even after Huon abdicates his kingship, and renounces Faerieland appointing Huon his successor. Right. Even though now King of Faerie Land Huon chooses to live happily ever after in his domain of Bordeaux while God is declared he victor in the contest with Oberon.
Meanwhile the Church was capturing the Arthurian Faerie Land so that as the fourteenth century began the Cathars, Faeries and the real life Knights Templar who had been associated with the Cathars had been disposed of. The Jews were suppressed and the Church and God were seemingly in control. However in the fifteenth century Constantinople, today's Istanbul, was to fall to the Moslems releasing even more heretical ideas against the Catholic ideology that would result in the Enlightenment during which the European mind matured to the point where the scientific assumed prominence and scientific investigation began to reveal the true state of Nature. This development destroyed the basis of supernatural thinking placing all forms of the fantastic into defensive positions or beyond into fiction.
The Jews abandoned the idea of God, the Catholics refused to accept reality and Europeans who cherished the Faerie forced to blend the Faerie with science. That is to say, turn Faerie lands into fiction. Thus the Romantic Age took form in
Science continued to remove the Veil of Isis revealing nature to the human mind. The next big test was Darwin's formulation of Evolution. The concept had been discussed for a hundred years previously but Darwin wrote the words that condensed evolutionary theory into fact. Romantics who had been holding on were now forced to adapt further. This adaptation produced the Second or Neo-Romantic who struggled in the face of scientific realities.
An interesting development occurred. Mankind refused to give up the supernatural. It would appear that the terrors of the real world required an imaginary refuge in which things could be controlled. Thus a transition from an imagined heaven or Faerie land began a conversion to an other world (parallel universe) that while equally unrealizable was equally comforting. The Pre-Raphaelites reached back into the past to idealize the world before the artist Raphael. From that beginning it blossomed into late nineteenth and early twentieth century novels. Among many others were the reactionary works of William Morris and the futuristic novels of the near great George Du Maurier. Du Maurier brought forward the Faerie projected into the future in a sort of science fiction.
In the US, L. Frank Baum created a modern fairy tale in his Land of Oz stories. This also meshed with the English Ruritanian novels of Anthony Hope and the US interpreter George Barr McCutcheon.
All these threads including Rider Haggard's romantic African fantasies were brought together in the novels of the American Edgar Rice Burroughs. While not thought of as a Neo-Romantic, Burroughs was probably the greatest of the lot.
As a result of a brain injury as a young man Burroughs was capable of disappearing into his brain world to create amazing fictional realities.
His scientific background and romantic projections are nearly perfect blends. In his Tarzan series he employs Africa as a geographic reality but then transforms it into a romantic fairyland that could never exist. In his own way Burroughs character Tarzan is a reinvention of Oberon. This confused a lot of readers who insisted that the real Africa differed from Burroughs' imaginary Africa. No contest.
For instance, Burroughs wanted to have tigers in Africa so he wrote them in to his Faerie Land. The magazine version of Tarzan of the Apes had tigers and made the story truly fabulous. However readers, being literal when their imaginations failed to embrace the flights of Burroughs' fancy forced the writer to change the tigers to lions thereby wrecking the Faerie land Africa, this alternate reality that Burroughs wished to create. Burroughs himself was heavily influenced by the fairy tales of L. Frank Baum, with whom he became great friends, so that if you've read Baum and keep Oz in mind while reading Burroughs the stories take on an added dimension.
Burroughs didn't stop with Tarzan and Africa but out of the same mind during the same period created another fairly land on Mars and another at the Earth's core honoring the fabulous hollow Earth notion. Thus three complete Faerie lands.
Of course, there was already a fairly large body of Mars and space travel stories in existence but they took a fairly clumsy approach and turned it into a whole something else, sensational, perhaps, for the moment but without enduring appeal.
At the same time, early teens of the twentieth century, a man named Hugo Gernbach was taking science fiction to a whole new level beyond Burroughs that would result in the fantastic blossoming of sci-fi in the nineteen-fifties.
This was truly a romantic recreation of Faerie Land. Worlds beyond comprehension; the transformation of the Little Folk into space aliens of every description with their human counterparts. The true nature of sci-fi has been little appreciated.
The neo-Romantics of the second period also created the horror and fantasy genres that would dominate literature along with sci-fi. The two greatest and most enduring creations were the Frankenstein of Mary Bysshe Shelley of the first Romantic period and the greatest of the monsters, Bram Stoker's vampire Dracula. Vampire stories had been around since Shelley's friend Dr. Polidori wrote his short vampire piece. Varney the Vampire had made his appearance in mid-century England, attributed to Rymer but Stoker's sensational novel formed the template for all future vampire stories including those of Anne Rice who was or is totally obsessed by the genre. Thus the supernatural transformed into quasi-scientific reality has survived to the present.
The Liberal mind evolved out of the Judeo-Catholic religious sphere, more specifically influenced by the Jewish aspects of the Old Testament, most especially by the notion of a people elected by god to rule mankind in his name. The notion is essentially amoral.
As the Jews are supposed to be creating God's will on Earth, bringing his rule to all people they believe that means by any means necessary. That notion includes the elimination of whole peoples who may stand in the way of that realization. Thus the great Liberal novelist Victor Hugo would explain in his novel 1793 the advent of the new perfect Liberal world can never be achieved so long as 'obstructionists' live so that Liberals are justified in killing tens or hundreds of million or even a billion in what would be a vain attempt to eliminate differences of opinion.
Thus, today, we have the Liberals hoping, praying for the deaths of 'old' people who they fancy stand in the way of the realization of their utopia, while they imagine all people under say fifty are guided one mindedly by their utopian ideal.
On the other hand, Jews, Negroes and others believe that the whole White population of a billion people must be eliminated before their dreams can be realized. It was believed by them that their dream was approaching realization in this 2016 election.
This hope was upset by the maverick Donald Trump. Trump's election set the Liberals off on a disappointed frenzy. Hence, Foreign Affairs issue Volume 97 no. 2 is devoted to expressing their disappointment by denouncing now President Trump.
Thus of the five articles under the collective Letting Go, three are definitely written by Jews, Eliot A. Cohen, Barry R. Posen and Adam S. Posen. The female contributor Sarah Margon is also Jewish. The only possible non-Jewish contributor is Jacob Sullivan, possibly of Irish derivation. As these articles are all assigned, that is written on hire, Sullivan may be assumed to be compliant.
It is evident therefore that the Jews are behind the extreme anti-Trump movement. While Trump seems to be obligated and subservient to the Jews for financial reasons their extreme opposition can only be based on the fact that Trump has taken a course independent of Jewish hopes and dreams.
The Jews, then, forming the core beliefs and fantasies of the Liberals give full and open access to the Liberal mind. The Liberals consider themselves to be justified sinners, the elect chosen by god to bring his heaven, his perfection to Earth as in heaven. There is no dissuading them, no ameliorating their extreme beliefs. They can only be quarantined or suppressed much as they hope to murder all opposition.
There is no room for discussion or compromises. Either they win or non-believers win. There is no other option.
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Vol. I, Clip 8, The Vampyres Of New York
The Vampyres Of New York
Vol. I, Clip 8
Story continues:
Ange: Partly, I tremble when I think about growing up in a country fraught with dangers I could never conceive as a child. For me my life has been an amusement park House of Horrors. The adaptations I have made to survive terrorize me. I haven't been able to sleep well because of horrifying nightmares. Perhaps that is why I went catatonic as you say. I'm alone, or I was, and defenseless against forces I can neither evade or control. Life is a nightmare with that bastard Adelstein hounding me, demanding what I don't want to give and he is the most powerful judge in New York.
You want me to tell you my story and I'm almost in tears thinking back to my girlhood. As you know I was born in nineteen forty-eight; that was in Orange County, California during the Gidget and surfing days. It was all oranges, sun and water, a near paradise.
Me: So you became aware somewhen around nineteen sixty.
Ange: Yes, and my parents got divorced at the same time. I was an only child and so I went with my mother. I don't know what she was thinking when she divorced my father. He took care of her. She was a beautiful airhead and at the risk of being vulgar she didn't know her ass from a hole in the ground. Men flocked to her and she couldn't handle herself at all. It was horrible. Finally my father put me in Warren's Finishing or I don't know how I would have made it through my childhood.
Fortunately my father stuck with me. After Warren's I went to UCLA and from there believe it or not, I graduated from Harvard Law School. That was in nineteen seventy-six.
As you may believe I was very good looking and had this amazing chest and you know what it was like in the Sixties, Seventies and Eighties.
Me: Only hearsay. I was married. Since then, of course, I've done a lot of reading. UCLA. You missed the Really Big Shoo up at UC but you must have around for Sunset strip in the Sixties. Sex, drugs and rock and roll and all that . How did you survive that?
Ange: You were up in Northern Oregon at that time?
Me: My wife and I left the Bay Area in sixty-six for grad school in Eugene then I opened a record store that became very successful. LA was the record capital of the world so I spent maybe three or four weeks a year on business in LA. I caught some of it but more from the fringe. I felt threatened too, perhaps in a different way but for me the terror started in Sixty and never let up until I got clear in about two thousand five. It was hard, hard travelin' through those years. I can tell you stories.
Ange: Yes. I wish that Pill had never been invented. Of course as a silly young woman I had to have it.
Me: They beat the drums loudly, didn't they? The Pill, the drugs, the disintegration of society; there was no safe place.
Ange: The drugs! I can't tell you how many women I saw destroyed by some joker with cocaine. My father warned me about drugs and thank god I listened to him. Not that I didn't do them a little, but on top of Dad's warning I had a strange inhibition as though some hand prevented me from taking them.
Me: Really? That is strange. But, tell me, you were twelve in sixty, eighteen in sixty-eight just as things really got rolling. You say you lost your virginity in sixty-six. Was your mother from Michigan? Did you grow up in Michigan?
Ange: I was born in Battle Creek but we moved to Orange County shortly after. Have you ever been to Battle Creek?
Me: Yes, relatives there.
Ange: That's where mother got in trouble. Some boy seduced her when she was sixteen and I was born when she was seventeen. My grand parents were horrified. They took me from her and raised me while they banished mother as a disgrace to them. That's when she went up to the Grand Traverse where she met you or this other you. She was allowed to come back shortly after you left when I met her for the first time. She married father and we left for California.
She used to speak to me of 'that boy' often. She could never understand why you left without saying goodbye. Why did you?
Me: I have often thought about this Ange with an aching heart. You see, I had a broken wing and your mother had a broken wing. To salve her hurt she took to injured and things with broken wings. Toward the end she came across a deer injured by a hunter. She brought it to her cabin where she lavished all her attention on it bringing it back to health.
Then, one day, when it had recovered it looked at her with those big doe eyes lowered its head and walked away, disappearing into the forest. I thought, I don't know what I thought, I was far from healed but I knew I that to leave too and so I just disappeared too.
I've always been ashamed of that but still I had no choice. In order to survive I had to cross the straits and disappear into the UP.
Ange: Where did you go?
Me: Oh, I don't know. It's all a blank space. The next thing I knew was that I was in Madison Wisconsin. I was already in the Naval Reserve so not knowing what to do I went active for three years and when I came out I was beginning to become Partly Wright. The name wasn't really my mother's joke, it was mine.
So, how did a young girl like you react to the Sixties. It was a pretty strange time. Strange Days like Morrison sang.
Ange: The Sixties pretty much passed over me. I was boarded at Warren's most of the time so I was pretty insulated. At UCLA I spent most of my time in classes. Other than listening to a few records I don't remember being too involved in what was going on and then I left for Harvard.
Me: From the West Coast to Boston. That must have been culture shock.
Ange: Talk about culture shock! I learned a thing or two at Harvard apart from law.
Me: I can imagine. And then you came down to the Big Bagel and then what.
Ange: Well, I had good grades, finished in the top ten percent, passed the Bar and was recruited off the lot by a middling level firm did well and was then taken by Barton, Adler, Adelstein and Dollop, a top firm.
Me: Adelstein? Is that where you met this Merivale Adelstein character.
Ange: Yes. A black spot in my life that, that I will never be able to erase.
Me: Oh, sure you will, I can erase that for you but tell me but this BAAD
Firm. A black spot. What exactly is your grievance, Angeline?
Ange: I don't know. I can't put my finger on it but every time he leaves I have this revolting feeling and I hate him. I always have to take a shower.
Me: Every time he leaves. Yes, I think I see. So you are aware of his coming and going but not what happens while he's with you, is that right?
Ange: Well, I never thought of it before but no, I don't remember anything between his coming and going, it's just a black spot, and I always feel dirty.
Me: Hmm. And this list of women you gave me. How did you know them?
Ange: Oh, we all worked at BAAD.
Me: Let me guess. You were all blond and attractive.
Ange: Yes, either natural or peroxide.
Me: And why did you leave the old firm…what was it called?
Ange: Gorden, Oils, Oswald and Dustbin.
Me: I see, so you went from GOOD to BAAD. Why did you go to BAAD?
Ange: Well Merivale made me an offer I just couldn't refuse; it was nearly double what I was getting at GOOD.
Me: How about that. Very nice offer. So he was impressed by your work at GOOD?
Ange: That was the funny thing. He never checked. I thought it must have been because I was from Harvard.
Me: Well now, these women hired at BAAD, did they all get real nice salaries too?
Ange: Oh yes, BAAD paid its women well. Even the receptionist made a fabulous wage for a receptionist. It was nearly a dream.
Me: I think it was a dream Ange. Do you know what a Monarch slave is my darling girl?
Ange: No-o-o.
Me: I'm beginning to understand your situation at BAAD.
Ange: You mean catalepsy?
Me. If you prefer. I'm going out on a limb here but you know what hypnotism is don't you?
Ange: Of course. What do you mean?
Me: Umm, I don't know how they did this. By any chance did the firm require you to see their doctor for a physical exam?
Ange: Yes, we all did, Dr. Wormowitz.
Me: Right! And was Adelstein the only Jew at BAAD.
Ange: Well, Partly, I'm not prejudiced or an anti-Semite so I don't look for that but yes, now that you mention it Jews might have been half or more of the attorneys.
Me: And the attorney's you knew best were all more or less chummy with Adelstein and you women were all Anglos, perhaps?
Ange: Partly, I don't know what you're getting at.
Me: I will tell you Ange. In your present state of mind you might not find what I have to say believable. Just listen, ask questions if you need to, think it over, that is, sleep on it and then we will see if it applies to your situation.
I think what we've got here is a problem in psychology. Hypnotism and suggestion. That's a problem society is unwilling to address and of which most people have little to no awareness.
In the nineteenth and early twentieth century when thinkers began to develop a rational understanding of mental processes the discipline was co-opted by a Viennese Jew, Sigmund Freud, who then began perverting psychology through psycho-analysis for Jewish national ends.
I am not opposed to psycho-analysis per se, Ange, in fact I use it for the basis of my understanding of the mind, but a discipline can be used for good or evil and psychoanalysis has been organized for evil ends; not all practitioners are guilty and may even not be aware of the ends others are seeking.
Freud himself developed little merely adapting and organizing what other researchers had discovered while taking all the credit and suppressing the others. Two very influential in the development of Freud's program were the Frenchman Gustave LeBon and the Russian Ivan Pavlov. LeBon gave Freud the key to mass hypnosis while Pavlov showed him how to master indoctrination and conditioning.
Freud was fortunate in having developed his program, I won't call it a theory, just as the great hypnotic media of movies, sound recordings, radio and later TV came into existence, all developed by gois. Thus the means for a blanketing dissemination of propaganda came into existence making his program possible.
As a Jew Freud hated the European civilization that had made the Jewish ideology obsolete and like his hero the Carthaginian General Hannibal who ravaged Rome he wished condign punishment on Europe and Europeans. As a field of battle he chose European mores and morals and by extension North America.
Freud's rise also coincided with the years of projected Jewish redemption that the Elders Of Zion had scheduled for nineteen thirteen to nineteen twenty-eight. Freud made himself a leading light of the redemption, one might almost say its Messiah. This is clear if you read his collected works aright.
The redemption was going along swimmingly. In Europe the Great War worked to the advantage of the Jewish people. Heavily represented, very influential, at the Paris Peace Conference they achieved signal goals in Europe, especially in the German Weimar Republic that Jews consider the high mark in achieving their goals. In the new Soviet Union they had replaced the Russians as the directing force in government. The native Russians essentially became Monarch slaves.
While Jews practically owned the Wilson government in the United States their plans hit a snag when the Republicans won the nineteen twenty election. At the same time in reaction to their success in Washington during the war Henry Ford began his expose of their anti-American activities that lasted for seven years. The Republican Interregnum endured until nineteen thirty-three when their Democratic stooge, Franklin Roosevelt, regained the presidency.
Then, just as it seemed that success was in reach from the US to the Soviet Union, the Big Clinker showed up in Germany overturning the Weimar Republic and upsetting their plans of capturing Euroamerica. If not the whole story this overturning of the Weimar Republic caused their rage against Hitler compounded by what they would call his anti-Semitism.
Now arising in America during the Great War as a publicist, Freud's nephew, his wife's cousin, Edward Bernays, had established his career as a leading Public Relations and advertising man. He had visited his uncle a couple times receiving indoctrination from him. The Jews considered Hitler's German triumph as evidence of the basic irrationality of the Demos when left to their own devices. Therefore the Demos had to be hedged out, that is controlled so as to remove any threat to the Jews.
As Freud's agent in the US, much as August Belmont had been the Rothschild's, Bernays acted to blunt the will of the Demos. As he expressed it a rational elite had to take direction of the Demos to prevent another irrational outburst as had happened in Germany. In his position of Public Relations and advertising he was able to slant advertising to achieve mind control advancing those controls. By the Sixties Jews had captured, for all practical purposes, the advertising industry managing the direction of advertising content.
To set the scene wholly, when Hitler displaced the Weimar Republic he also displaced the whole of Freud's subversive Psycho-analytic Order. While psycho-analysis was based or disguised as science it was set up as an Order along the lines Medieval Chivalry. Thus the Order's goals were political rather than medical.
The displaced Psycho-analytic Order, as well as other orders such as the Frankfurt School almost entirely re-located in the United States, mostly in New York and Hollywood, the two most important Jewish colonies in the US. While the gois had a visceral reaction to psycho-analysis it prospered mightily until by the Fifties and Sixties it dominated intellectual attitudes.
That's a brief history of Freudianism for our purposes Ange. Now, if you haven't any questions we'll go on to the application of Freudianism in the US situation.
Ange: This is different than anything I've ever heard Partly, where have you read this? Especially the part about the what?, the Jewish redemption?
Me: I am an historian Angeline. The history you and the public read is heavily redacted and edited for Jewish purposes, one might say a conditioning of the mind. Nearly all of it is written by Jews or vetted by them. Thus only a homogenized version of history favoring Jewish goals is made available. Any exposure of its falsity is punished.
The major Jewish actors of the twentieth century are virtually unknown although their influence on the period was immense. I doubt if you have even heard of the most prominent Jewish actor of the period, Bernard Baruch.
Ange: Not that I remember.
Me: I thought that would be the case yet he was known as the advisor of presidents from Wilson to Eisenhower. You may have heard of Felix Frankfurter but I doubt if you know anything but the name.
Ange: Hm, no, not even the name.
Me: Felix is down the memory whole then too. He was as influential as Baruch. Tsk, tsk. Well, historically the Jews have functioned as an autonomous or near autonomous and separate nation within the nations and heavily influenced the Paris peace talks of WWI to place themselves in a very advantageous position vis-à-vis the Europeans. The talks enabled them to virtually takeover Weimar Germany.
In the US they were actually depicted as having their capital in New York City while the American capital was in Washington DC. Thus if you treat them as an autonomous nation working for their own interests as against those of the Americans you get a different and more accurate picture of the period than if you merely read what you are intended to and not read what is forbidden. Right?
Ange: I, well, I suppose so.
Me: What I tell you is true. So, that's the bare bones of the history of the period. I have lots of corroborating evidence in my blog articles. You can read them if you want. So, now, leading into your situation.
As I say, Freud wanted to destroy and change the moral order of Europe. Having spent some time with Jean-Martin Charcot at the Salpetriere in Paris and with the important hypnosis developers Liebeault and Bernstein at Nancy as well as reading LeBon Freud acquired the means to undermine the mental state of Europeans while he developed his method. This is why the Nazis burned his books; they knew what he had done and what he was up to. These were all defensive moves.
His first assault was to attack the dream mechanism and put the understanding of dreams on a sound basis. This was actually a signal service but very unsettling to conventional understanding. Significantly his motto for the Dream book which while from a quote from Vergil in Latin essentially said that if he couldn't make it in the gentile world he would create a hell and destroy them. You may think this is a stretcher but fourteen years later the Great War erupted that gutted the manhood of the Aryans.
I think the actual translation is closer to if the gods wouldn't help him he would resort to Satan. And he did. Satan triumphed in nineteen sixty-six when Time Magazine asked on its cover: Is God Dead?
You might think that's a stretcher too, but as Gustavus Myers said of his History Of the Great American Fortunes, it's all facts, all facts.
Freud's Dream book was not an immediate success but its sales volume grew year by year. As Freud recognized Dreams slipped the subconscious and had to be interpreted in that light. He also realized that life revolved around sex although he misinterpreted the meaning of sex, and he knew how disturbing the sexual act is. Emphasizing sex was a perfect way to unsettle society.
Europe's efforts for two thousand years had been to get the sex impulse under control. They had succeeded to some extent, probably as much as could be done but Freud wanted to and did release the sex impulse to full indulgence. His Three Essays On The Theory Of Sexuality in which he defended homosexuality and proposed childhood sexuality threw the gois into a tizzy knocking them off center. These are legitimate topics of research but Freud always approached these things from the smutty side. As D.H. Lawrence noted Freud wasn't trying to reform morality his goal was to destroy it. Sex being the potent disturber, he made his assault on the European vision of Woman that put her on a pedestal. The attack was fierce; he wanted to make a wanton of Woman, sluts and in the Sixties that was achieved. It was laughingly referred to by the knowing as 'women's liberation.' Ask yourself, and Ange I wasn't thinking, who benefited?
It was also necessary to disarm the goi so that there would be little or no resistance. This was a two pronged attack. The first was to induce guilt for thinking ill, or realistically, about Jews. For this the notion of anti-Semitism was exploited. In control of the media the Jews were always eulogized while it was forbidden to call attention to, for instance, Jewish criminality which by the way they now celebrate, while on the other hand goish faults were dwelt upon.
The Jewish Order of B'nai B'rith organized its terrorist arm to seek out any offenders and if they didn't heed the warning they would hurt. For small fry this worked well but when the virtually immune Henry Ford appeared on the scene the Jews really had to exercise their powers. It took twenty years but by nineteen forty Ford was on the edge of bankruptcy. The government and most of society had been organized against him. Rust never sleeps and the Jews never desist.
Freud discovered cocaine in the eighteen eighties becoming something of an addict at the time while destroying a few lives by pushing it. He learned firsthand of the power of such a morality dissolvent and what it did to the mind.
His drug years are usually glossed over while it is said that he kicked the habit. Maybe. But how many do? I'm convinced that he remained a user all his life although he obviously brought his use under control.
Nevertheless, in the twenties, having discovered the effects of heroin the Jewish New York gangster Arnold Rothstein organized the heroin trade on a commercial basis. Of course most if not all drugs were legal until nineteen ten and hop heads, as they were known at the time, had always been around but now began a concerted effort to promote heroin use.
There were also synthetic drugs such as amphetamines. Amphetamines were synthesized in the 1890s. Strangely enough in the first thirty years of the century vitamins, previously unknown, were discovered. This led for some strange reason to the combination of amphetamines and vitamins into a feel good cocktail. It was believed that the vitamins neutralized the harmful effects of the drug.
Somewhen about nineteen thirty a Jew by the name of Max Jacobson claimed to have invented the potent mix. Max isn't particularly reliable so he may have or he may have picked up the idea from someone else. In any event flushed out of Germany he showed up on America's hospitable shores with his vial in his hand. By nineteen sixty he was medicating a large portion of New York City.
Numerous other drugs and psychedelics were synthesized over the forties and Fifties so that by the Sixties the cornucopia of mood elevators and depressants were legion. Many of these new stimulants were legal through most of the Sixties.
Lurking behind this was the development of the understanding of hypnosis, suggestion and post-hypnotic suggestion which is what you experienced if I'm correct Ange. The mothers of mind control. The Holy Grail of what many people sought for many various reasons.
You remember, Ange, that the Jews speaking through Eddie Bernays thought that an elite, that is a code for themselves, had to control the mass psyche to prevent them from aberrant behavior, code for anti-Semitism. The method would have to be through suggestion, indoctrination and conditioning.
If you examine the media through that lens it is easy to see how they manipulate the mass psyche. TV, movies and records are the key media and those have always been Jewish owned and controlled. If you watch the internet for your news you will quickly become aware of what the programmers want you to think. Deviate and society itself will correct you as the conditioning also teaches one to reject any unauthorized opinions.
However, specialists want more complete control. Thus the operators emphasizing indoctrination and conditioning go directly into the mind compelling the subject to delete old memories and opinions and replacing them with induced memories and opinions. This is facilitated by suggestion under hypnosis and post-hypnotic suggestion. Once the suggestion is accepted by the mind at any time in the future the suggestion will be performed. If you've seen the Manchurian Candidate you know how it's done. A trigger word or gesture over the phone or anywhere will activate the suggestion.
The North Koreans used what was then called brainwashing during the Korean War on POWs to get them to renounce their allegiance to the US. The CIA under that strange one, Allen Dulles, experimented extensively. By the Sixties using sex, drugs and the media all highly hypnotically suggestive repeated over and over means the Jews were well on the way to conquering the mind of America; a truly remarkable conquest.
The Pill removed the fear of pregnancy, hence sex 'liberated' woman but also turned her into a piece of meat. Then in sixty-two Betty Friedan, a Jew, delivered the coup de grace to the Chivalric conception of Woman with her book The Feminine Mystique. By rejecting the Mystique or Chivalric approach, that women did, they were delivered to the meat market. As the Negroes said they were holes or ho's to be used and discarded. This was especially clear in the world's meat market, New York City. The Vampyres of New York had arrived fangs bared.
As I mentioned, in nineteen sixty-six Time Magazine signaled the changing of the guard when its cover blared Is God Dead? That created quite an uproar at the time, quickly obscured as time rushed on. It might be coincidence or it might be the Freudian plan unfolding but Time Magazine being published in New York City, the largest colony of Jews in the world was always if not controlled, majorally influenced by Jews as was the publishing industry in general.
No surprise then that in sixty-six Ira Levin, a Jew, published his novel Rosemary's Baby. Rosemary was of course impregnated by Satan giving birth to his baby Andy in imitation of Mary and Jesus. Thus Satanism replaced Christianity. Roman Polansky the movie director, a Jew, immediately set about turning the book into a movie that was a smash hit in sixty-eight. Polansky made very few, possibly no changes, to the story. After Rosemary's Baby the whole movie industry became Satanic. That would have been when you were sixteen and eighteen Ange. You are probably familiar with The Exorcist and the flood of movies of the kind.
Ange: Yes I am. That movie horrified me. I have even seen Rosemary's Baby but I just thought it was a movie. But, I think I can see how society did change from God centered to Satan centered now that you've explained it. But except in a general way how does that apply to me?
Me: It sets the stage for what I am going to suggest happened to you Ange. Once you changed employers from GOOD to BAAD I think you must have some memory black outs, blank spots once you get to BAAD. Would that be correct?
Ange: Well…there are things I can't explain, like waking up sore all over without being able to explain it as I couldn't remember how it might have happened. At times even though awake I thought I was sleepwalking.
Me: Yes. I am probably right then. Now you must understand Angeline that on sexual matters I don't follow the Liberal agenda. I find feminism puerile, self-serving and unrealistic. Sex matters are totally dependent on biology. Nature has created what nature has created no tinkering can change that and certain consequences have fallen out of that creation that cannot be denied. Because men have an Xy chromosome they are more or less self-sufficient; because women have the other two X chromosomes they are more dependent. Men are stronger, women are less strong. In point of fact men have no other use for women other than sexual and perhaps as beasts of burden. That may sound rude but if women had no sexual use but remained women they would be superfluous to men. However as women are conscious and intelligent beings men have to make certain concessions to them to maintain harmony. We call that Love.
There have been ways attempted around those concessions however, for instance, the harem in which a rich or important man gathers a group of women about him distributing his favors by his own peculiar method. As with all solutions there are unintended consequences, expense being a major one and the envy of other males another although to be surrounded by women is enervating.
Another solution most famously tried on slave plantations of the West Indies was to select favored females and then bringing them up with their every wish or whim fulfilled while being trained to be compliant in sex. Perhaps not too distant in concept from the Japanese Geisha girls.
The Negro slave women were difficult in numerous ways being unsatisfactory. Then fortune shown on the planters. Along about sixteen sixty or so Oliver Cromwell chose to subdue the Irish. Being the good self-righteous Protestant that he was he was especially brutal. He rounded up tens of thousands of Irish men and women selling them into slavery, chattel slavery, in the West Indies where they were put to work in the fields with the Negro chattel slaves. The beauteous Irish girls were more spirited and lively than the African women, however when half breeds were created the combination was just right to create near ideal sex, or Monarch, slaves. The women were near ideal however they did have to be coddled from birth and that can be downright irritating to more brutal male desires. The women's attitude was easily ruined. So that solution was somewhat less than satisfactory.
Interestingly as New Orleans was part of the French West Indies when Haiti revolted and thousands of White planters fled to the Gulf Coast and New Orleans they brought that tradition with them so that the system continued to exist in Louisiana and as I understand it a few such women still exist there although only those men of a certain standard of wealth and temperament can possess one as the women must be maintained in their complete innocence.
The hope then was how to have women trained to gratify men's desires without the unpleasantness of having to be directly concerned with them. This is where the advances in Freudian psychoanalysis, Pavlovian conditioning and hypnotism come in. I believe that you were part of that grand experiment along with the women on your list. You were all Monarch slaves.
Ange: Partly, what you are getting at is just too incredible. I've never heard of Irish slaves in the West Indies. What you said just doesn't seem possible.
Me: I can assure you it was, not only that but those indentured servants in the American colonies you read about were actually slaves although technically not chattel. Still, men and women both worked in the field cheek by jowl with the Negroes. Hence the strong mixing of Negro and White blood. If you don't have the historical background, and there is no reason you should have, check it out on the computer after we finish. It is there plus there are many books now dealing with the subject. So, I'm not talking through the back of my neck, Ange. I am a bona fide historian.
Ange: I believe you, dearest Partly, but it is all just so incredible.
Me: Not so incredible as may be revealed in your case Ange. I think we have a fearful tale to tell. Just remember that Hera loves her daughter and I have been sent as her priest to absolve you of all responsibility. All responsibility Ange, you are as innocent as a new born baby.
Ange: Yes, I believe you Partly. You have already saved my life and I'm sure that Hera and you can redeem it.
Me: Redemption is of the mind and can never be complete. So, now, we're going to have to examine what happened after you went to BAAD.
Let's start with your physical by Doctor Wormowitz. I think he may be the key. From his name did you think he was Jewish?
Ange: Yes, he was Jewish. He had a big Star of David in yellow facing you on his desk and other Jewish memorabilia scattered through his office including a couple pictures of Auschwitz on the wall.
Me: No secretary, just he and you in the office?
Ange: Yes, that's right.
Me: What do you remember about the physical Ange:
Ange: Oh…well…I…I can't recall anything.
Me: I imagine not. What do you recall between entering his office and leaving it?
Ange: I remember sitting down and then hearing him say close the door softly when I left.
Me: Right. So you were hypnotized while in his office and have no memory of what went on.
Ange: Hypnotized? I can't believe that. He didn't try to hypnotize me, I would have resisted.
Me: You didn't know what hit you Ange. When I went to visit my parents and the Little Bastard once in Keokuk where they lived the Bastard took me to a party at his so-called friend's house. Apparently completely without my knowledge or compliance his friend's wife hypnotized me in the midst of assembled people. It took me a long time to realize what happened but I have a blank spot from the point where I was standing talking to them to where I moved across the room. I became aware that she was staring into my eyes. I thought then that she was trying to hypnotize me so at that point I pitted my will against hers and shook her off. Came out of it just as I was about to really go under. I have no idea what happened between us whether she planted a post-hypnotic suggestion or not. Wormowitz put you under without your realizing it. He must have begun indoctrinating you into sexual practices; so he must have implanted a signal or sign, a word, that would flip you in and out of trance in a split second. Do you remember any words or signs that these guys at BAAD flashed you or the other women?
Ange: No, no, I don't remember anything like that. They did have this odd twitch when I saw them talk to some of the other girls.
Me: What twitch was that?
Ange: I guess they got nervous when they walked up so they scratched the lobe of their ear like this.
Me: Of course. Rubbed it three times. That's it, Ange. With that sign they could flip you in and out at will.
Ange: That's really hard to believe, Partly.
Me: OK, Ange. Watch this, I am going to put you under on the count of three. One…two…three.
And there it was. Ange flipped into her party girl, hot babe persona.
Me: Ange I command you to remember that I have just hypnotized you. I'm going to flip you out now.
At this point I rubbed my right ear lobe three times. But, instead of flipping out she leaped into my lap and began to French kissing me. I didn't know what else to do so I responded in kind. While I was thinking she clasped my hand to her breast which upset my thinking momentarily. Christ, what could the counter-sign be? She had my right hand clasped to her breast so in my anxiety I put my left hand up to scratch the back of my head accidentally hitting my left ear lobe.
That was it. She flipped back to reality or, perhaps better, to her alternate or first personality.
Ange: Well, aren't you the flirt Partly? How did you get me in your lap without my knowing it, Fresh One?
Me: I hypnotized you using Wormowitz's signal Ange. That's was the physical you were taking. You were being put under the control of the men of BAAD. You were then a sex slave. You were an improvement on the West Indies or Geisha model. You couldn't remember what happened when you under when you were out. They had no responsibility for you. Being well paid kept you on the job. Don't you remember saying you would remember if you were hypnotized?
Ange: Yes, of course I remember saying that, you told me too but how did I get on your lap and when did you begin to feel me up?
Me: You followed your conditioning well Ange. We're going to have to experiment with your trance state to learn what they had you do and figure out how to back you out of it. By the way, was Merivale Adelstein a young lawyer at BAAD then?
Ange: Yes. I've known that bastard for a long time. How I hate to see him coming.
Me: I'm sure you do. How would you like to get your revenge by tearing his eyes out?
Ange: Nothing would give me greater satisfaction.
Me: OK. That was an easy one. That is what you are going to do. First let's clear up your career at BAAD. In its own way this is a horror story, Ange, that you might find unsettling or maddening. I'm going to have to do another cleansing of you by Hera before we continue. Your mind has to be prepared. It's almost five o' clock. Let's have a bite to eat and then a cleansing. You're going to be conscious this time but I want you to open yourself, be receptive to my suggestions. Believe. Accept without resistance.
Now, here Ange, undress and put on this green silk wrap. Green is the color of rebirth. When Hera or the Earth blossoms in Spring she is a fresh virgin green. You were released from your former self at the first ceremony, with this rite you will be born again shedding your old self much as the first stage of a rocket falling away, a future without that burdensome baggage. Once free of that I will put you to bed and you will enjoy a healing and refreshing sleep until sunrise. You will awake to a new world without fear of a past that will appear as a novel written by someone else.
Ready? Now throw your raiment from you and slip into the cleansing waters. Hera will reveal a past concealed from you by the machinations of evil men. As they captured your soul by devious means you had no responsibility for their actions as they affected you. You are innocent. Your will had been taken from you supplanted by their wicked desires by criminal means. You will now reaquire your will.
Their means was suggestion that I am now removing and replacing that suggestion with the love of Hera for her daughter. You will respond to the sign of the ear only from me. No other is to be observed by you. You will respond only to my voice, no other.
You are to avenge yourself on Merivale Adelstein. At the opportune moment when confronted by Adelstein I will sign you to attack him. Your strength will be tripled, your fury will be irresistible. Tear at his face with your nails. Ignore all consequences until I say cease.
You are once again purified. Hera bless you.
With that I patted Angeline dry, placed her in bed, tucked her in, planted a sweet kiss on her lips and said: Sleep, my beloved.
She closed her eyes and was lost to the world till the sun rose over the horizon.
As I went out into the living room the phone lights began to blink so I said hello.
Lessing: Hello, Perry. Haven't seen you for a few days. You OK?
Me: Hi, Lessing. I've been busy with another problem. Demanding. Didn't mean to ignore you. How have things been?
Lessing: More and more interesting. You have heard the news about the Rabbis?
Me: No, Lessing. I haven't had any news for a few days now. What about the Rabbis?
Lessing: Our lifetime president ordered them all rounded up.
Me: Rounded up? As in collected for further disposition?
Lessing: Yes. They have apparently been put in a camp put in operation to receive them. It's unbelievable. I don't know what to think.
Me: I can't say I'm surprised. I won't say I saw it coming but he's had it in for the Jews from the beginning. I don't know why they couldn't see it. He didn't happen to nab old Soros did he? Along with the Rabbis that would more or less wipe out the leadership cadre leaving the people rudderless.
Lessing: Soros is out of the country, may have had advance word. What do you think is next?
Me: Probably a general roundup when they get more space. Has he done anything to empower the Moslems? Anything in Sharia law, something like that?
Lessing: There is talk of Sharia law being permitted in the Moslem colonies but nothing firm yet. But, what is the other problem you spoke of?
Me: It's sorta difficult to explain over the phone but I have found the means to virtually take control of the courts so we'll be more secure than we are.
Lessing: How did you do that?
Me: I'll have to explain face to face. Just let me ask: Do you know Merivale Adelstein?
Lessing: Adelstein? Sure.
Me: He's in the bag and the knot is tied.
Lessing: Hard to believe. When can we meet?
Me: Give me a couple days to complete my matters here. How about Friday for lunch?
Lessing: Sounds good.
Me: OK. Oh, and I'm bringing my wife Angeline Gower so there will be three of us. Pick out a place that is always empty or close to it so we can talk low.
Lessing: Your wife! Angeline Gower! The woman who worked at BAAD?
Me: Yes. Do you know her?
Lessing: I know of her but I'm so flabbergasted I don't what to say.
Me: It'll keep till Friday. We'll need a planning session on Saturday too.
Lessing: You're sure about that?
Me: Yes. Be prepared for some excitement on Saturday. Should be fun. If anything happens give me a call; otherwise Friday for lunch.
Of course I knew the conversation was recorded so I sent Ragnar with a different set of instructions. We probably couldn't elude the authorities but we could make it a little difficult for them.
Continued on Clip 9.
Posted in America, Anima, Animus, Civilization, Consciousness, Dreams, Freud, Henry Ford, Irish Slaves, Jews, Liberals, Psychology, R.E. Prindle, Religion, Sigmund Freud, Slavery, Structural Psychology, Subconscious, Unconsciousness, Writing | Tagged Fiction, Novels, Stories | 16 Comments »
Vol. I, Clip 7: The Vampyres Of New York, A Novel
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.'
'Merivale Adelstein.'
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.
Posted in America, Anima, Animus, Consciousness, Dreams, Emasculation, Psychology, R.E. Prindle, Sigmund Freud, Structural Psychology, Subconscious, Unconsciousness, Writing | Tagged New York City, Novels, Stories | Leave a Comment »
Clip 6: The Vampyres Of New York
The post-war years saw the Jews moving out from under the umbrella of Communism into a solely Jewish movement. No longer having need of the Soviet Union after 1948's establishment of Israel as a Jewish State many formerly Communist Jews abandoned loyalty to the Soviets to play both ends from the middle. Among these were a number of writers and intellectuals who had opted to live in the West. This was a fairly lucrative choice as the CIA chose to claim these writers and intellectuals as converts to the US side. Allen Dulles as head of the CIA lavished subsidies and perks on these people making them in effect wealthy, at least as long as the Cold War might last.
At the same time William Buckley working from his magazine base, The National Review, also staffed mainly by Jews purged the Conservative ranks of nationalists denying them employment opportunities. If you wanted to work you had to be philosemitic and 'middle of the road' and internationalist; or the rightwing of the left. The one party system had come into existence.
While the 1956 Jewish-Arab war was welcomed by Americans who all had been indoctrinated to favor the Jews the apparently easy victory gave Jews renewed confidence as warriors. While in Nazi Germany they had objected to wearing the yellow star they now virtually put yellow gold stars in the middle of their foreheads. Going into the Sixties then the Jews wore their shirts open to the waist with their necks laden with gold chains and stars, they became very aggressive with increased revolutionary ardor.
The tools of sex and drugs were becoming more efficient tools in their arsenal. To them rock and roll came along fortuitously to form the triumvirate of sex, drugs and rock and roll that would seduce the youth of America.
I think all of us here either lived through the birth of rock and roll or in the case of Max grew up with it. You will probably remember the accusations that rock and roll was a Communist plot to corrupt the youth of America. In fact, sex, drugs and rock and roll did corrupt the youth of America. The question then was it planned or directed. Another fact is that rock and roll did turn pro-Red, pro-Jewish and pro-homosexual all three of which were Communist and Jewish goals. Another fact is that Jews both in England and the US controlled the record industry. Astonishingly nearly all the corrupt talent managers were Jewish. The major and most of the minor record labels were owned by Jews. The Jews who had no other ideology than Semitism posed as leftists so as to ingratiate themselves with non-Jews. The Jewish ideology rejects non-Jews so some other avenue for association was needed and this was the left.
By the mid-Sixties at least it was impossible to have a career in music if one wasn't leftist. At the very least an artist had to pretend to be a leftist; it was not enough to be silent. Testing was prevalent.
Along with that went an enforced reverence for Negro music. The promoters of Negro music were almost uniformly Jewish and Leftist. The intellectual differences between Whites and Blacks is such that Negro music was a very hard sell. Successful Negro artists during the Fifties were lovable like Fats Domino or catered to White tastes as the Platters did, pandered to White tastes as Harry Belafonte did or as the Jewish songwriters Leiber and Stoller did write clownish songs for Negroes to sing.
However ghettoish singers such as James Brown And His Famous Flames met with total rejection. Still in the Sixties a dedicated cadre of White fanatics made Brown a legend that few Whites would still accept.
It took English groups and singers who worshipped these Negro musicians to not exactly revive but create an interest in Negro blues thus opening the doors.
Thus it became possible to demand that Whites reverence Negro music or else be known as 'racists'; that is the equivalent of anti-Semites. Along with Negro music came Negro 'liberated' sexual morality that helped undermine White sexual morality based on chivalry and a reverence for the female, a concept that the Jew Betty Friedan successfully attacked in her book The Feminine Mystique. By the end of the Sixties the female had been reduced to a piece of meat existing only to satisfy essentially perverted male desires. This was known as sexual liberation. Woman's formal pedestal was carted off the ideological junkyard. The feminine mystique was indeed gone.
New York City was not representative of the United States nor was Los Angeles. The rest of the country still professed traditional morality as the Sixties began while drugs would be slower to penetrate.
Chemistry had been transforming the drug scene in a little revolution of its own. During the Fifties the amphetamines and barbiturates had been known as mood changers while the psychedelics were restricted to the cognoscenti and the CIA.
As I mentioned earlier by the Sixties the Feelgood doctors were transforming New York. Max Jacobson had established himself after a slow beginning. By the late Fifties he had moved beyond a beachhead and by the early Sixties his practice was so established that it included the President of the United States, John F. Kennedy. The elite of New York was gracing his waiting room. Max was your typical Jewish earthshaker desperate for renown.
It is difficult to think of him as an MD. He was much more of a charlatan, a snake oil man dispensing his amphetamine panacea. He was a devoted user of his own product. By the Sixties his amphetamine/vitamin cocktail contained many ingredients including animal glands and unidentified substances that he would mix up on the spot for your very own 'signature' preparation. There were secrets to the various amphetamines that produced different effects. There was one that made you tear off our clothes and make you run down the street naked. Experimenting on himself Max mixed up the wrong formula giving himself nerve damage so that he lost a certain amount of coordination in one of his legs.
His shots were serious business that destroyed a number of people. One would last three days or more while preventing sleep. Max himself is said to have been awake for thirty days running. The result was either insanity or perhaps transfiguration, take your choice. Talking to a man in that state must have been an experience.
Other Feelgood doctors rushed to take advantage of the very lucrative practice. The shots usually went for seventy-five dollars, equivalent to perhaps five hundred dollars today, while at most costing the doctors a few cents. By the late Sixties they had become such a nuisance that the authorities shut them down.
It must be noted that amphetamines were not illegal until the late Sixties so no laws were broken. Nevertheless many lives were ruined while life in NYC became chaotic, perhaps, as you fellows remember. NYC became a hellhole in the seventies and eighties as no society can succeed on drugs.
Max Savings: I knew things were getting chaotic but I wasn't aware that amphetamines were so endemic.
Me: Mm, yes. This is a sort of aside but an interesting story. Were any of you guys around the Village back then? No? Did you hear of a group called, my apologies but history is history, The Fugs? No? Well, their front man, Ed Sanders, was a very interesting guy, he palled with another zinger, Tuli Kupferberg, a real nut although revered as a saint by some…
Max: I've heard of him. Don't know much about him. (Same here from the three others.)
Me: Tuli is a different story but this is a fairly amazing situation overall. Ed was a real voyeur who disguised his mania as a scientific investigator. He was a Catholic, just for the record, from Kansas City, had a degree in Egyptian hieroglyphics. He wanted to film some live sex so he went out and bought three ounces of amphetamine for thirty dollars then advertised, might have been the Village Voice but maybe not, for couples to perform sex before his camera offering free amphetamine, as much as they wanted…
There was no dearth of applicants so Ed got a good cross section of speed freaks on amphetamines on film. Shot with enough these people became oblivious of their surroundings. That is, they were essentially insane or, more kindly, transfigured out of this world.
The FBI busted Ed and confiscated his collection of films. Broke Ed's heart. After that he turned writer issuing his memoirs, a good read, and, get this a socialist history of the US in verse and many volumes. Ed's a terrific story from the Sixties really. He…I can't go on as it is less pertinent but just amazing. Check out his autobiography.
Thus as the story moves into the Sixties a form of evil social engineering designed to destroy traditional Anglo-Saxon culture is gaining momentum. The main engine for social change will be the libertine Bohemian culture of the Village. Greenwich Village, the East Village and by the vehicle of the Folk Music scene.
That scene while not being wholly Jewish was governed by Jews. Now, this was a very unhealthy situation in which absolute non-entities would emerge to take direction of American culture. A hapless bozo from Chicago would virtually take over the radio airwaves especially when another hapless noodnick from Hibbing Minnesota would arrive on the scene. Who would have taken bets that these two nothings would point the direction of American culture for the foreseeable future but they did. Their names were Albert Grossman and Bob Dylan, two Jews. Dylan wrote the songs while Grossman created the group that sang them, Peter, Paul And Mary. Two Jews and a shiksa. This group essentially sang Communist hymns. Their influence was immediate and deep. As a successful songwriter Dylan, who began as an atrociously bad singer was able unbelievably to develop an eccentric style that while actually wretched found an audience. All I can say is that the time was right.
The war had created a situation… You know fellows, I can go on but we'll be here all night and I don't want to overstay my welcome on the first night. So this might be an OK place to stop. I'm ready to go on but it's up to you.
Lessing: As far as I'm concerned Perry, go on. It's not that late, it's that early. The night's shot but my time is my own and I can sleep anytime.
Max: Uh, right. Tomorrow's Saturday so while all my time isn't my own tomorrow is, or rather today. I've got an empty schedule and I don't really want to leave this chair, so, go ahead.
Marc: Sure, I'm in.
Me: Ok then…
Baron: Hold on a minute. I've got this to say: It's always the Jews, isn't it. I…
Lessing: Baron!
Me: That's all right Lessing. I'm solid. Well, you're right Baron. Yes, it always is the Jews. And without accepting guilt the Jews themselves admit it, albeit after the fact.
Baron: What nonsense!
Me: Well Baron, the point you have brought up is rather a trite one, one of the so-called great canards but I'll give you my reading anyway. I see you're not Jewish so you must be a Judeophile and impervious to facts. I can refer you to a book, pamphlet really, by a Maurice Samuel entitled: You Gentiles. He explains in his fashion why the differences between Jews and Aryans are irreconcilable and why we or the Jews must be eliminated. The book was published in 1924 and you know what happened after that.
But back to It's Always The Jews. Underlying the Jewish problem is their conception of themselves. While the Jews are only too human they conceive themselves as placed between the angels and mankind. Thus they see themselves as demi-gods; however as demi-gods they conceive of themselves as being 'pure' and holy. The reality they can't quite escape can be named Satanism. They thus combine Godly and Satanic in one entity and that is an irreconcilable impossibility. What to do? Following Freudian psychology, the national personality splits in two reflected in every member of the community. That is, as Robert Louis Stevenson preceded Freud by a couple of decades one has a godlike Dr. Jekyll and a Satanic Mr. Hyde. The problem then is how to dissociate the Godlike from the Satanic so one can feel 'pure'. As a simple solution one projects one's Satanic shortcoming onto the other, we gentiles. And one calls the recipients anti-Semites and they are everything the Jews imagine themselves not to be. Thus in example we have the Christ and the Anti-Christ, and the question which of the two will triumph. Thus the anti-Semites become a psychological necessity for the Jews on which to transfer their shortcomings. If no anti-Semites exist the Jews must create them.
As we have seen after WWII there were no anti-Semites in either the US or Europe. Nevertheless the Jews searched and searched hurling slanders like Fascists and Hitler left and right. This only cowed gentiles further. What to do? Simple, import them. Thus having thoroughly antagonized the Middle East Arabs or Semites the Jews compelled Europe and North America to take in millions of Moslems. The Moslems immediately turned on their Middle East tormenters living in Europe, raped their women and beat and shot them. Perfection! The Jews then began publishing articles complaining against the rising tide of anti-Semitism in France, Germany and the US etc. They were back in their comfort zone again.
Another amazing phenomenon is that the creative figures in Jewish history are said to be non-Jews. According to Wilhelm Reich who knew Freud well, Freud didn't really consider himself a Jew or didn't want to be one. His ambivalence is easily seen. Thus as a founder of twentieth century Judaism, that founder was conceivably if not actually non-Jewish. In fact, as a child Freud's Christian nurse instructed him in Catholicism and may possibly have had him baptized.
If Freud's parents thought this might be true that might explain the arrest of Freud's nanny for some minor household theft, or maybe she was set up as a punishment for her transgression against the Jewish rites. At any rate Freud always lamented her disappearance from his life.
Freud thus was instrumental in his Moses and Monotheism in trying to prove that Moses himself, the founder of Judaism per se, was Egyptian and not Jewish at all. Reich then says that Freud identified himself with Moses.
Now, in early eighteenth century Germany there arose the legend of the Jud Suss, that is the Jew Suss, Joseph Oppenheimer. Suss was what was called a court Jew or a sort of major domo for the ruling Duke or Prince. He was the greatest Jew of the time serving the Duke of Wurttemberg in southern Germany next to Bavaria. He may be said to have organized the early modern Jewish economic organization in Europe paving the way for the later Rothschilds who in the wake of the Napoleonic war seized economic control of Europe and actually the Americas.
Now, Suss who lived and died a Jew according to the legend perpetuated by the Jewish novelist Lion Feuctwanger in his 1926 novel Jud Suss was the bastard son of a German duke, hence not a pure Jew at all although his mother was Jewish technically making him Jewish.
Thus in Feuctwanger's account, perhaps merely legend, the founder of Judaism was not Jewish; the eighteenth century organizer of European Judaism was also not Jewish and if one accepts Reich's story of Freud neither was the founder of current Judaism. So what does this mean? It probably admits a psychological truth, perhaps a metaphor for the relationship of the Jew to the gentiles.
In point of fact as the Jews only came into existence four thousand years ago while they date a creation of the world to six thousand years ago then Terah, the first Hebrew must himself have been a non-Jew arising from whatever people he belonged to. Perhaps then the Jews are admitting that they are an artificial creation. Needs a little further development.
Now, rather than the gentiles being envious of the Jews in all probability the Jews have reversed the situation being envious of the Gentiles. Viz. the story of Cain and Abel. That was certainly true in Germany where the Jews were decidedly the inferior. So, what then? The Jews conspire to destroy what the other has created. Is it a coincidence that Germany was bombed flat in WWII?
Rather than do a chronological review of the societies that the Jews lived in, exploited and destroyed I think I'll use a frame of the Jud Suss to make it more interesting. You guys know of Suss Oppenheimer? OK, that's good enough just so there's a context. This is impromptu now so don't go too rigorous on me.
The story of Jud Suss is an interesting one. Suss lived from 1698 to 1738 being thus a young forty at his death. His career at Wurttemberg was only from 1733 to 1737 a short four years to arouse such intense hatred.
The hatred was such that he was hanged high, higher than the gallows, perhaps thirty feet high in an iron cage and left exposed for six years. It is very difficult to believe he had given no cause as the Jews, as usual, assert. At any rate, then his life quickly turned to legend. The legend was treated in story and theater although I am not aware of any songs. And then in 1926 the Jewish novelist Feuctwanger wrote his interpretation titled Jew Juss. He turned the story into a combination fairy tale and myth. He had previously written a play on the same theme in 1916. Note the dates: The Bolshevic Revolution occurred in 1917 while the Jewish influence in the Weimar Republic was pronounced and jewish/Communist street fighters were battling the German nationalists.
In 1933 just after Hitler's accession a film went into production in England that was released in 1934 titled Jew Juss based on Feuctwanger's novel, renamed Power in the US. It is still available. The film was pure Jewish propaganda. Whether Hitler read the book or not his propaganda chief Joseph Goebbels did. He also saw the movie rightly thinking it was an attack on Germany. He countered Feuctwanger's propaganda with his own when he produced his own film in 1940 titled Jud Suss, so Suss epitomized the Jewish and German struggle for supremacy.
Feuctwanger's novel is supposed to be sympathetic to Suss but as I read it the novel seems to be fairly objective Jewish national history, or mythologized history in this case. To me it seems to be an epitome of Jewish history in Europe.
One also has to consider Feuctwanger's intent. Towards what was the novel pointing as an example or lesson for current affairs in 1926? Feuctwanger portrays Suss as a Jewish savior not unlike Jesus who organized Jewish affairs for success in Europe and then like the scapegoat of Jesus who died for Jewish sins or perhaps like Moses who led the Jews to the Promised Land and then was denied entry and could only see it from afar.
Jewish mores are always contra mores so that in Jewish eyes their mores must supplant those of Europe. Thus Suss enters the capital of Wurttemberg forbidden to Jews, Stuttgart, on his own terms not those of the Duke. With Jewish suppliantcy he seduces the Duke and cheats him at every step.
That he was a new Jewish paradigm for modern times is evident in Feuctwanger's contrasting him with the old fashioned Jew Landauer. Suss wants to display his power while Landauer argues that concealed power is better than the appearance of power. Jews control the money and in money lies the true power.
In the actual contest of who will rule Wurttemberg, the Jews through Suss or the Germans through the Duke, Suss has the real power while the Duke has only the appearance of power that Suss must accord him. Suss then plunders the State of all forms of wealth not unlike the Jews of Spain while doing so with a 'power of attorney' from the Duke that places all the responsibility of his crimes on the Duke. Technically Suss is innocent. Suss operates against the Duke on the principle of two for me, one for you.
He then becomes wealthier than the Duke, remember this is all being done within four years, with the money he has the real power. According to Feuctwanger then as the most celebrated and powerful Jew in Europe, not unlike the successor Rothschilds, he acts as a sort of Prime Minister of the Jews as a single economic unit. Using various commodity monopolies granted by the Duke the Jews throughout Gemany, then became monopolists in their turn. All the money of Europe must eventually become theirs.
Suss thus put the Jews on the track followed by the Rothschilds with such signal success. Mayer Amschel Rothschild the founder of that dynasty would be born six years after Suss' execution. Roughly following Suss' example combined with the rapid development of Europe Rothschild would set in place the system that would plunder Europe as Suss' had plundered Wurttemberg.
In Feuctwanger's time, 1926, the Jews by their own admission had seized control of Germany as well as Russia. At the time of course they denied it.
They might very well have done the same in the US except that US nationalists had wrested control from the Wilsonians in the 1920 election, as Hitler would do in Germany in 1933. At that time the Jews through their tool Franklin Delano Roosevelt gained the role in the US they had enjoyed in Weimar Germany.
As soon as Hitler gained Germany English Jews filmed Feuctwanger's version of Suss releasing the movie as Jud Suss in 1934. The film was pure propaganda depicting Suss as a victim of what one might call pre-Hitler persecution. This perpetuated the myth of German hatred of the innocent long suffering Jews.
Of course Hitler's propaganda minister, Joseph Goebbels was keeping close track of both book and movie so that he countered Feuctwanger with his movie about Suss in 1940. It should be noted that a barrage of pro-Jewish propaganda movies were also being produced in the US. Jud Suss was released in the US under the name Power while movies lauding the Rothschilds also appeared as well as a revival of the Dreyfus persecution myth among others. While this propaganda war has never been acknowledged it raged.
While the English film was Jewish anti-German propaganda that was deemed Ok; the Goebbel's version was denounced as the foulest anti-Semitism. In realistic terms winner takes all but the war isn't over.
Feuctwanger's depiction of all Germans as fat doltish boors or simple dullards versus the great masculine beauty of Suss combined with what is depicted as the innate cleverness of Jews which was only deceit and cheating was grossly racist but that has been ignored.
So there you have it, Baron. Which is it Jewish war on Germany and Europe or the persecution of the Jews?
Here I sank back exhausted. Reading prepared pages wasn't so bad but extemporizing an interpretation of Feuctwanger's novel from memory and maintaining a decent order nearly took me down.
Me: Hey, listen guys that took nearly everything out of me. I see the sun coming up so how about putting off the continuation of The Vampyres Of New York until a later time. I'm done in.
Lessing: Are you game for breakfast?
Me: I'd love to Lessing but I'll beg off if you don't mind. Sessions like this knock me down besides being up all night even with the Obetrol. I'll call Ragnar and go back to the condo.
When I say I was beat, I mean it. This meeting had given me a lot to think about but I'm too beat to get the mind working. I needed rest. Ragnar dropped me off and Ottmar let me in. I threw myself into bed suddenly aware that I had a fitting the next day at James Carter.
I'd felt like I could sleep forever but strangely two and a half hours later I was wide awake. It wasn't even noon yet; further I felt refreshed. Then I realized it was Saturday. I thought it was going to be Monday. Don't know how I got turned around, further I felt refreshed, even relaxed. Although I felt refreshed mentally I was still languid physically so I thought I would hole up until Monday and get some work done. Maybe I was just over excited. I read and wrote.
Ragnar dropped me off at James Carter and I mounted the staircase to go up to see Abe Goldbladder. Abe wasn't too happy to see me, but what the hell, the customers are always right. Right? Right.
Abe looked me up and down, then said:
'Is this the weight you usually carry:'
'Right, Abe. I won't get heavier while on the other hand I might shrivel up further so worry about me getting smaller rather than larger.'
'You talk like a wise guy.'
'I don't have much respect for things anymore Abe. All is irrelevant except myself.'
'Except yourself! (snort) We know who you are Mr. Wright.'
''We know who I am? Who's this we? The ADL and all those people?'
'At least. What we want to know is what you're doing here. What's up your sleeve?'
'You couldn't expect me to tell you that Abe, but I'm not up to anything. I'm here on what you might call a sabbatical.'
'Oh, a sabbatical! Then why are you staying at the Carmichaels and how is it you connected up with that Fascist Farquhar? You deliver an anti-Semitic rap at one of soirees he has?'
That took me back a little bit. That he knew I read my paper at Lessing's confirmed that Baron Cammell was a spy but that Lessing and the Carmichaels were conservatives under surveillance made me think. I had thought it was strange that my ad produced a response so quickly plus I thought it was amazing that they didn't know someone locally they could use. I was clear that the three had read my website, so maybe…. I'll have to call Lessing when I get back and check things out. I might be able to realize a fantasy here if I can catch the tide just right.
'What's the deal with Lessing and the Carmichaels Abe?'
'You're going to play innocent huh? You deliver a defamation of the Jew Suss like you did and you don't think that fits right in with those Fascist bastards?'
'Fascist bastards, Abe! Wow! All I can say is you know more than I do. As far as Suss goes, Baron probably didn't give you a very accurate report. I've just about finished writing my interpretation of Suss up. I can give you a copy if you like so you get it right.'
'You'll give me a copy will you?'
'Why sure, Abe, why not? I'll put it up on the web anyway. You guys read all my stuff, don't you? You repost my stuff on your notorious anti-Semite pages on ADL's site, don't you? I'm not keeping any secrets. There's nothing clandestine about what I write. I think it will be titled The Jewish Savior Joseph Suss Oppenheimer. Feuctwanger portrayed Suss as one of your messiahs like Jesus. It should be up in a few days but I'll have Ragnar drop a hard copy off for you. You'll love it. By the way, Abe, when you finish this suit I'm going to want a hot pink flannel suit in a modified zoot style. Do you think you can find a fabric?'
'A hot pink zoot suit? My god, do you have a wild hair up your ass?'
'Mind your manners Abe. No. I've been thinking about this a long time Abe. It's a tribute to my mother. Uh, I didn't say that last Abe, just forget it. Plus I'm going to want a matching hat and wing tip shoes. Think anything like that is available?
'Yes, it can be done. I don't think the fabric will be too difficult but the hat and shoes may be expensive. They may be special order.'
'That's alright. The odd request is always more expensive. At the same time check out a bright yellow, deeper shade. The pink will be three button, the yellow double breasted and I might also want a powder blue one button roll, all flannel.'
'One button roll? My, you have been thinking of this for a while, haven't you?
'Yes I have.'
'Your mother, one button roll, powder blue. Hmm.'
'I don't recall ever mentioning my mother to you Abe; but since I've mentioned all three suits I'll take them if you can get them.'
'I can get 'em, I can get 'em.'
'Good, Abe. Thanks.'
I was elated as Ragnar pulled up. I really wanted those suits. I didn't know where I was going to wear them. Maybe a stroll down Broadway to see who whistled. Maybe a big pink Cadillac would stop with a hot blonde at the wheel. 'Need a ride, Big Boy.' She would say. 'I sure do.' I would snicker with a broad double entendre. Well, enough of that; a little too revealing, back to reality.
Abe had put me on to something I hadn't suspected. Lessing and the Carmichaels might be into some kind of right wing (so-called) conspiracy and that meant that Ragnar might be involved too. Maybe these guys at his gym were using body building as a front to conceal something else. Maybe in addition to bulking up they were also heavy into the martial arts. Maybe…but how to broach the subject to Ragnar. Oh, I had it.
'Ragnar, pull into the limo parking lot I want to talk to you.'
'OK.'
I got out of the limo when Ragnar pulled up.
'Let's stand away from the limo, Ragnar, it's probably bugged.'
'I don't think so. I sweep it every day.'
'Visual or electronic?'
'Visual. I look it over pretty thoroughly.'
'Electronic might be better.'
'Are you sure it's bugged?'
'Pretty certain. Do you know the Carmichaels are under surveillance?"
'I don't know it but I always check. Do you know something?'
'I was talking to the tailor back there and he knew I was at Farquhar's and what the paper I read was about. That means a spy. That explains some of the people who always seem about. I'm definitely being tailed, while Farquhar is also certainly under surveillance.'
'Really? I didn't know that.'
'Any chance you're under surveillance Ragnar?'
'Why would I be?'
'You drive the Carmichaels and now me.'
'Why would Jews follow you?
'I'm a historian, Ragnar, and I write essays concerning the Jewish role in history. Some of my essays are reposted on the ADL hate site. I had no idea they were so sensitive.' Boy, that one had to be tongue in cheek.
'Oh, wait a minute. You're not that Partly Wright are you? The I, Dynamo guy?'
'Yes. You've been reading my stuff?'
'Couple of guys at the gym have mentioned your things.'
'Have they? You know what I stand for then. Any chance the gym is used by, uh, a certain political outlook?'
'Maybe, we do talk politics, but a certain outlook? What does that mean?'
'You know, a conservative point of view.'
I saw he wasn't sure how far to commit himself so I let it drop telling him I would talk to him later. First, before I committed myself further I wanted to talk to Lessing, see where he stood. Back at the condo, I called him making an appointment with him at the Metropolitan Modern for the next day.
We found each other without too much difficulty, drifting into a near empty gallery. There was no chance that I and probably Lessing wouldn't be followed so it was necessary to be alert for anyone trying to occupy the same space so to speak. Some call it paranoia others call it survival.
'Ah, Lessing. How are you?'
'As good as can be expected in these troubling times. I'm glad to see you survived your initiation. Any problems?'
'Who me? No. Actually it was fairly mild. I've been through some harrowing initiations, hazings or whatever.'
'You didn't find Baron too irritating?'
'No. He's normal, even a little more civil than most; but that brings up a question: Do you know you're under surveillance?'
'Under surveillance? Goodness, why would you think that?'
'No need to hold your breath Lessing, the cat is out of the bag. I'm being fitted for suits at James Carter and my tailor, Abe Goldbladder, reported the contents of my paper to me on Monday. That means one of two things: your condo is bugged or you've got an agent attached. I'm betting on Baron Cammell.'
'That fellow, did you say Goldblatter…'
'Goldbladder, with two ds.'
'Goldbladder? Does he pee gold?'
'Don't ask me questions like that, Lessing, I'm not privy to the results in his privy. I thought it was a spectacular name myself. Beats Spingold my previous favorite. Imagine the name Rumpelstiltskin Spingold. Put that up on the marquee. Anyway Abe knew everything two days after it happened. Gotta be Cammell. Are the Carmichaels under surveillance too?'
Lessing looked at me quizzically not sure of himself.
'Don't worry Lessing. I'm secure. I knew that at least one person there had to be a spy. Everybody gets infiltrated. What was it: The Carmichaels went abroad for a cooling off period?'
'I wouldn't put it that way Perry, let's just say their affairs were becoming enmeshed and they needed to disentangle them.'
'Yes. But then I thought that how could I be so lucky as to land the house sitter opportunity unless there was something more involved. I mean, I have never won the lottery before, the odds were never longer than this. You're familiar with my website. I consider my essays pure history although the ADL for instance considers them outrageous anti-Semitism. You don't have to be told that, obviously, but you must have thought they were how shall I say, risky?
I don't know whether Ragnar told you but at the airport a couple other people attempted to snag me. Who knows what the outcome would have been. So, I'm sort of a dangerous acquaintance.'
'Yes, I suppose we knew that…'
'Listen, Lessing, I know where you, I and the Carmichaels stand and I'm sure we can work together. I know that they're on to you as well as me. What say?'
'What did you tell this Goldbadder fellow?'
'I didn't tell him anything. I just smiled and stared. You don't talk to or argue with Jews; it just goes on forever. They're inexhaustible. If it's a question of wearing down it's futile there's no winning. Besides I'm hep to them anyway. I picked up Cammell first thing. I just waited for a little confirmation.'
'Let's go to a more secure place, Perry. I have to think a little.'
Believe it or not Lessing took me to the Dakota. We went up to 701, a very large apartment that was unoccupied. We sat at a table while Lessing studied me intently.
'You wouldn't have lent me the condo if you hadn't thought my attitude was right, Lessing. My essay 'Chumps Playing Stud' must have indicated something.'
'Yes. I did like that essay.'
'Really. And my work on Ford. Rehabilitating Henry Ford is a top priority even at this late date. This is serious stuff. I think Lady Carmichael said you were a lawyer, is that correct, can I ask your field?'
'Yes, I was a lawyer. What significance do you attach to that?'
'Well, Lessing, I hope I am not overstepping any bounds but I dimly perceive that you and the Carmichaels summoned me here with some motive, perhaps you are not fully aware of what your motive was but I am guessing you were looking for a catalyst, someone to brings things together and get them moving. We need a diem to carpe, a moment to seize. But it looks like the times are here for aggressive measures. A plan is needed.'
'We do have a lot of disgruntled folk who have no coherence to move in a defined direction. However, I wonder why no actions have been taken against you Perry, you who write so forthrightly.'
'Lessing, actions have been taken against me but they have been covert. Hundreds of pictures I was using have disappeared from the net, replaced with the most generic kind. It is forbidden to post my essays on aggregators. I used to have wonderful numbers on reposted essays but that has been stopped. My numbers no longer grow as they should while certain more critical posts get no response at all or very little so they are blocked some way. Passages are changed and words deleted or misspelled to make me look stupid.
As far as the Jews go I more or less have a free pass within that framework because to contemn me would give me too much publicity so they follow a course they call 'dynamic silence'. If nobody looks at you nobody knows you are there. Besides my posts are built around a post they have written so they would have to criticize my criticisms of them and they're not going to do that. Their stuff doesn't stand up. And then my posts are built up on a secure historic base that is not easily refuted.
Otherwise I have traveled little because when I do clever assassination attempts are made so that it requires constant vigilance on my part.'
'You've had assassination attempts?'
'Oh sure. Several that I can identify. Others are not so clear.'
'You mean like shootings?'
'No, Lessing. They don't do anything obvious. You get shot and everyone knows it; you have a fatal accident and those things happen. Since I've been slandered mercilessly nobody would care, they might even applaud.'
'Can you give me an example?'
'OK, Lessing. I'll give you one, but as far as I'm concerned my attitude is clear from my essays. I belong to the Edgar Rice Burroughs Bibliophiles for which I've written dozens of essays. I consider myself a major contributor to Burroughs studies. Nearly two decades ago I attended my only convention. I don't know who was on my case but I was ill-treated on the plane, ill-treated renting a car, and when I got to the hotel in Fort Collins they had no record of my registration with the group, or the payment. I reminded them the payment was made with my card and that could be checked. They found my payment after an interminable wait, then they assigned me a room as far away from the others as they could not with the reserved section. Dirty unpleasant room. I ordered a hamburger at the restaurant and was told they were out of hamburger.
I recognized the ploy and rather than run through the whole menu I went to bed hungry. Of course I was suspicious especially as people in the adjoining room were raucous, I mean raucous non-stop. In inspecting the room for booby traps I noticed a large heavy picture above the bed was loose rather than screwed tightly against the wall.
Some call it paranoia but I could envision the picture dropping down on my head as I slept perhaps hitting me and either hospitalizing me or killing me. I long ago learned to heed my premonitions. It was a king bed so rather than sleeping vertically I slept horizontally across the foot of the bed.
Sure enough, a couple hours later the picture came crashing down. Had I slept normally who can say what the result would have been? The rest of the stay was variations on those themes. Of course with 'accidents' one never complains about them and you certainly don't mention that you think they were planned because you are then 'paranoid' and discredited.
Food poisonings aren't worth mentioning they are so common. Never eat eggs the morning of checking out. Check out and go have breakfast somewhere else where you aren't expected. Accidents, Lessing, accidents, they happen all the time. So what do we have going here?'
'I see. I suppose you are safe. You appear to have experience with skullduggery.'
'Right, in spades. So what kind of elements are we dealing with.'
'You're right about me and the Carmichaels. I'm not sure what Ragnar is doing but I know Ottmar is a member. I know a number of people who are afraid, so they appear Liberal. As you say we need a catalyst so possibly that is why we received the appearance of your ad for an apartment as fortuitous. You have seemed to be what we are looking for.'
'OK. I can see the possibility for a good time. The resistance seems to be rising. Success depends on how you go about it. I suppose that you know lawyers and judges who are sympathetic?'
'Yes, there is a fair number of us.'
'OK. I suspect the athletic club is a conspiracy center so Ragnar might be part of a 'commando' group for gaining control of the streets. For that we would require lawyers and judges to obstruct prosecutions, delay proceedings etc., you would know better than I, and also have police on our side. Perhaps Ragnar's group is already doing that. Since the cops rarely leave the station house now we might have a fairly free hand in the streets.
But first it will be necessary to neutralize the courts. Can you get some lawyers and judges together? Organize them?'
'I can.'
'Good. Time is of the essence.'
'I see. Yes, I will get to work on it immediately. You will be the leader?'
'I'd rather not. I'd rather operate behind the scenes. If you know any safe writers I would like to organize them for psychological warfare and propaganda. Next to the courts that will be a key. We'll follow the usual conspiratorial methods. You work on the legal end and I'll investigate Ragnar. If I'm right I'll try to line them up. Once we have a nucleus, we'll have to have an organizational setup.'
'Yes. It's frightening work.'
'Paranoia rules the day. I'll try to approach Ragnar and get to it.
Clip 7 follows.
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Vol. I, Clip 3: The Vampyres Of New York
Book I, Clip 3
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…
Anton: I…
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.
-IV-
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.
Posted in America, Anima, Animus, Christians, Civilization, Consciousness, Freud, Moslems, Psychology, R.E. Prindle, Religion, Religious Consciousness, Reviews, Science, Scientific Consciousness, Semites, Sigmund Freud, Structural Psychology, Subconscious, Unconsciousness, Writing | Tagged E.T.A. Hoffmann, Essays, New Serapion Brethren, New York, New York City, Vampyres, Vapires | Leave a Comment »
Part I, Clip 2, The Vampyres Of New York
Part I, Clip 2
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.
-II-
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.
-III-
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.
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Part I: Vampyres Of New York
Clip I
The years add up. It was when my total was approaching eighty that I took stock of my life. All the things I had put off to some distant future now loomed important as I now realized I was in the only future I had left. The future was limited. Any day now in all probability.
I had been dissatisfied with my appearance for some time. Time had passed and I hadn't kept up with it. I was dressing as I had thirty or forty years ago. It was time to invent a new persona, get a new haircut, buy some new clothes. As improbable as it may seem I fixed on the persona of Cary Grant as he appeared in the old fifties movie To Catch A Thief. Of course my looks were nowhere near Cary Grant's at that time still I was slender and not totally homely, besides clothes make the man and you can buy clothes. I offed to LA in pursuit of the perfect garb.
While I found the perfect outfit, plaid jacket, a couple pair of pants and a cravat I did take what would turn out to be a short sighted view. I should have selected a wardrobe rather than an outfit. Nevertheless as I returned home I thought I was passable. It would take a while to get comfortable in the new persona but I thought the cat was in the bag and the bag was in the river. I was passable for the old hometown but I had my sights set on New York City.
I had always wanted to spend a year in NYC and environs to enjoy all the cultural attractions. The Sixties in which period I had devised the desire no longer represented The Big Bagel as some people now call it. Then in that impoverished city you could rent a loft of 3000 square feet for fifty dollars a month not only in a deserted building but a whole dilapidated neighborhood. Today in the same areas condominiums are going for tens even hundreds of millions of dollars. Whole neighborhoods have been razed to build enormous buildings. There was that expense I now had to consider. An apartment in a building I considered suitable might go for anything from fifteen to twenty-five thousand dollars a month. While I was not exactly down to my uppers I quailed to think of spending possibly three hundred thousand dollars for a year's worth of shelter. Call me a piker.
I'd rather abandon that particular item on my bucket list but then I remembered that some people needed house sitters while they were off perhaps on an extended tour of the world. I didn't think there was much of a chance but I contacted an online agency, filled out the forms and much to my surprise was advised of a situation a month later. Six weeks after that I was on a flight to The Big Apple, as some other people express it. Imagine fortune smiling on me like that.
And believe me fortune was smiling. I had previously emailed a photo of me dressed for the occasion and had received a photo of the guy who would meet me at the airport. A wise precaution as it turned out. Leaving the plane the driver and I quickly spotted each other but also waiting to greet me was a guy holding a sign that said Partly Wright. I don't know he was but I'll explain later. Unless I forget.
My driver was a big fellow who looked like he might have had past. He took my carry on which was all I had; at that moment I realized how ill prepared I was for a year's stay. What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking anything, I had subconscious motives as it turned out. The driver, Ragnar, led me out to one of those white stretch limousines about thirty feet long. I was the sole occupant in this huge room complete with bar and TV both ofwhich I ignored.
Arriving in the Tribeca neighborhood the limo stopped in front of a forty story condominium building. I knew from the pictures I'd received that the apartment was luxurious but the reality of the building was daunting, massive, all marble. Ragnar passed me by the doorman and the elevator carried me to the gold painted door on the thirty-first floor. Long grocery haul I thought.
Squaring myself away as we said in the Navy I pressed the button.
In the old days there would have been a peephole but now three separate cameras scanned the hallway to ensure the way was clear. Need I say the photos did not do justice to the apartment? This was splendor. Obviously done by an interior decorator. The ensemble was spectacular, a large entry and living room in quiet warm earth tones, splendid artworks, abstracts, decorated the walls. Lining the long wall was a magnificent library, floor to ceiling shelves with a little rolling ladder. No kidding. Windows looked out over the bay to the East and the views of the Hudson and the wastes of New Jersey to the South were spectacular.
Dazzled beyond comprehension I was only vaguely aware of answering the usual questions about the flight while as it was now six-thirty in the evening I was politely shown to a bedroom to clean up and relax a bit as dinner was to be served at seven-thirty. This respite was much needed as I was somewhat dazed by my marvelous even unbelievable situation. Freshened and somewhat less dazed I took my assigned seat at table.
The condo itself must have cost the Carmichael's tens millions of dollars. That I was going to live there a year for free flabbergasted me. The table at which we were sitting was an absolute work of art such as would have satisfied royal tastes throughout the ages. The graceful chairs were a delight to sit in. Contrasting those were a plain white setting made in China that appeared to come from Restoration Hardware or Williams-Sonoma; in fact I know they did because I had an identical set at home. Rather strange I thought.
As I sat staring at the original of Columbus Discovering America I knew I was in the home of intellectual wild men. Perhaps my eyes were open too wide because the mistress of the table, perhaps some reincarnation of the goddess Diana the Huntress in the disguise in which she entombed the father of us all, Merlin, asked: Is something wrong Mr. Wright?
'Oh, no, no, 'Mrs. Carmichael, I replied quickly, just a little giddy from the long flight. You know how they pack us in these days. If you like you can call me Perry which is what I'm known by instead of Partly or Mr. Wright. Mother had a sense of humor that used to entertain us all.'
'I know all about that, Perry. My given name is Lady, which I do go by, Lady Margaret Carmichael in full that leads to some amusing situations, and this is my husband Miles. This gentleman here is our friend Lessing Farquhar. We hope you'll both be friends.'
'Oh, I'm sure…'
'You must be wondering why we chose you to housesit during our absence?'
'Well, Lady, I was born in the bottom of a wishing well; I just figured my wish was granted. Sometimes the gods do favor us as I'm sure you know. But apart from that what were your and Miles reasons?'
Farquhar let out a little smarting laugh, 'Perhaps you thought you'd died and entered Valhalla?'
'Something like that. Was it my charming picture?'
'That too. But the three of us are historians or amateurs at least. Would it surprise you to know we've read your writings on your blog?'
'Not surprise, but shock. I do have a couple million reads so somebody must have keyed in but one never knows who. It is only occasionally someone lets drop a hint that they may have; very seldom does anyone own up to it.'
'You have a couple million reads?' Farquhar asked surprised.
'Yes, and what is gratifying is that my audience is thoroughly educated as T.E. Wogglebug characterized himself. A metric company, Quantcast, that keeps track of these things places my post-grad readership at between 160-220 percent of normal while grads are about 120-150 of normal. I was somewhat astonished at that. So while shocked or perhaps amazed that you have read something not really surprised. Gratified however.'
'Judging from your writings you are certainly well read. May I ask what sort of education you have?'
'Oh sure. I interpret education in the broadest sense. As to formal education, High School in '56, college at California State College, Hayward- now California State University East Bay- some graduate work at UC Berkeley and the University of Oregon but no advanced degrees. I found college useless although I did learn what I was supposed to do, that is, the method. I know how to progress around the bases.
But my real education, baseball cards, stamp collecting, comic books, sci-fi and all that, took place outside bricks and mortar school. Probably the most influential source was that of comic books although I am unable to say what it is I learned. Some I can, but mostly not. My comic book education took place from after WWII to just after 1950 when I was force weaned.
If you know anything about comics you know William C. Gaines EC comics. Originally EC stood for Educational Comics but after Gaines introduced the horrid Tales From The Crypt genre he changed the initials to mean equally preposterously, Entertaining Comics. They were horrid. They blasted my brain. I could hear and feel the crunch. Those comics were evil. While reading one I said to myself: They shouldn't let us little kids read this stuff. But I stood in line for the next month's issue down at the magazine store. I didn't realize it then but the store was a venue for what passed as pornography at the time. Do gooders were there to tell us we shouldn't read comics. We knew it but we didn't care.
Educational bits and pieces. The comics were almost wholly a Jewish operation. Gaines himself was Jewish although he has an Anglo name. All his artists, writers and inkers and whatever were Jewish too although most assumed Anglo names. Not being aware from seven to eleven when I read this stuff I had no idea of how Jewish comics were. I recently reviewed an issue of my favorite, Plastic Man, on the internet and was astonished to see that he was a thoroughly Jewish hero. I had no idea. Still it was somewhat disguised, nowadays, in the new comics like the X-Men the heros flaunt their Jewishness. Superman in retrospect was also very Jewish.
But as I say the horror comics, Tales From The Crypt, Weird Tales and that ilk transfigured my brain. It was only two years ago that I realized the negative influence of Gaines and his filth. I still don't understand how I reacted.'
Farquhar interjected: 'That's interesting. Problems? What sort of problems were you having?'
'Mostly pressures in the head. Not headaches, from which I have never suffered, but pressures; an awareness of the perimeter of my brain, knots and twists in my brain. For a longtime a big knot over my ear, right side of my brain. Then later it crossed over to the active or left side. I had serious electrical discharges.'
'And you believe this came from EC Comics?'
'I don't believe it, I know it.'
'Well, Lessing is it?, after a few decades these issues came to a head, after an attack two years ago I unraveled the mystery in a dream so that the cause having been recognized the symptoms disappeared. I am now free of EC, or think I am. I don't know that I can ever get it out of mind.'
'That's rather extraordinary isn't it?'
'Not really. Basic Freudian psycho-analysis runs through the version of self- analysis of the much despised Emile Coue. Coue was the 'I'm getting better every day in every way.' guy. Much misunderstood. It was just really buried, not so much a fixation as a state of mind. When my brain crunched, which is what I suppose the knots symbolized it just took decades of probing to get at them.'
'It's amazing you could do that.'
'Maybe. But a few decades ago I read The Divine Pymander of Hermes an ancient self help book in which the demon Poimander approaches the scholar just as he is about to enter the dream state. Poimander introduces himself to the near sleeping scholarly inquirer to advise him that he is there to help. He will show the scholar what he wants to know. All the scholar has to do is keep in mind what he wants to know and Poimander will guide him to it.
This is essentially Coue's process. Access the subconscious so that it is working in the direction you want it to. The power of positive thinking of, I believe, Bishop Sheen in the fifties. For instance I wanted to remember a girl's name from high school and it was completely blocked. I could look at her picture in the high school year book and not recognize her. Then one morning coming out of the last sleep or dozing, a little bar like from a slot machine dropped in front of eyes with the name Donna Meininger in black and white. Doesn't always work quickly but it works.'
'Freud was a very clever man but I still find psycho-analysis distasteful. Freud should never have invented it.'
'Actually Freud didn't invent it, he collated it from numerous sources while giving it his peculiar cast. He systematized long known ideas. He was extremely well read in is chosen field. He was of the German culture so he had access to all the Romantic writers in the German language. The Germans were miles ahead of anyone else except for possibly the French. A universal prejudice against the Germans prevents the translation of much of German literature.
But who I consider one of the greatest writers, E.T.A. Hoffmann was a very astute psychologist from whom Freud appropriated wholesale.'
At this point I saw Farquhar's ears perk up.
'Freud himself read Hoffmann as he refers to him and I'm sure he read a great deal of his work giving him much food for thought. The West, and here by West I mean the US, France and England, doesn't appreciate Hoffmann the way it should as we have only translations of a few of his more bizarre tales. A couple things have appeared or have been reprinted recently such as The Devil's Elixers and the Serapion Brethren that are truly breathtaking, especially The Serapion Brethren. Astonishing grasp of psychology.'
Farquhar: 'You're a great admirer of Hoffmann then?'
'Oh yes, but to continue. Freud was central to understanding the fifties and beyond but the fifties especially. I was not fully aware of that at the time being too young and dumb but since. After comic books as an educational influence came the influence of movies, records and finally TV. The movies of the fifties were obsessed with the hysterical fear of alien attacks from outer space. This was obviously influenced by the nuclear race. All sorts of monsters freed from the Freudian Id arose to confront us. We all knew and loved The Creature From The Black Lagoon, also the giant carrot that came from outer space.
The basic pornography of the comic books, and they were nearly pure porn, became invasive and more influential. Every week was a new challenge. As I had been immersed in comic books I became immersed in science fiction, both movies and print. And sci-fi was great stuff. Bradbury and Heinlein were my big stars in books although I read so much stuff I couldn't tell you who the authors were. In movies Richard Matheson's The Incredible Shrinking Man was really astonishing, life changing. I gave up on sci-fi after reading Williams Tenn's amazing stories. At that point I decided sci-fi was just a waste of time.
Nevertheless the earlier influence of comics was immeasurably strengthened. This whole comics, sci-fi was shatteringly presented and encapsulated by a real lie 'sci-fi- event in late 1958 that really cracked my brain while causing deep resentment against a society that would do such a thing.
I think you people may be old enough to remember if you haven't blocked it out. It will come back to you if you did see it. Israel had been established and the '56 Israeli and Arab war had been fought and won by the Jews. Ever paranoid they undoubtedly feared an adverse reaction or, as they put it, a rise in anti-Semitism. For some reason the Jews found their casualties as the hands of both the Germans and Soviets unjust. Unable to resist the Soviets and under whose control they were they concentrated on the German camps naming it a holocaust.
On a certain Saturday night in November as I remember they commandeered all the TV networks and independent stations countrywide so that no one could escape watching it other than turning off their sets which solution I'm sure occurred to nobody. They then showed scenes from the camps that I've never seen since. Totally emaciated nude bodies were piled into a small mountain perhaps thirty feet high and maybe a hundred feet long, I'm working from memory. A Caterpillar was then fired up belching black smoke as the blade moved into this huge pile. What the intent of the driver was I don't know as it didn't seem possible the driver could move such a huge mass while the bodies would have tumbled down on the driver's head. This was truly horrific, exceeding Tales From The Crypt by a factor of at least ten and it made the same impression on me as EC's tales when I was eight and nine.
In some strange way that viewing closed off my early education and I began the current phase.
Perhaps the generation to which I belonged that was raised on those vile comic books began to come of age in the Sixties so that movies have come to more and more resemble those comic books of William C. Gaines. I suppose in some weird ways those comics were a major influence informing US history since. Unfortunately I haven't determined the exact effect they had on me since as I think the effects were deeply subliminal.
So, there you have it the basis of my education, everything since is just accumulating knowledge.
Farquhar: 'My mother wouldn't let me read comic books so I have no ability to grasp their psychological effect.'
Miles: My mother also. As I remember parents were virtually united in opposing them. I'm surprised your mother let you read them.'
'She didn't Miles. I was in the orphanage in my top reading years and beyond her or anyone else's control. Within very elastic limits I did what I chose. As an orphan I rejected anyone's authority and that was almost complete. I roamed and investigated. I was completely independent; almost no supervision. I would brook no interference and there was little compulsion although I was feared and hated by the house mothers. I was as free as I've ever been except for maybe now.
When my mother remarried she threw away my two foot pile of comic books for which I have never forgiven her.'
All three people were staring at me for some reason. Finally Lady spoke: 'For all that you don't seem to show any ill effects. You are certainly well mannered.'
I realized then that I had probably said more than I need have since all I was asked essentially was whether I had a college degree and from where. 'No matter,' I said, 'Be that as it may. Between comics and Freudian psychology I've been able to put things in order. Poimander, so to speak, has shown me the way. I expect to enjoy New York immensely.'
It was now fairly late and as I was running on West Coast time I was getting fairly tired while it showed. I was shown to my room and very gratefully dropped off to sleep immediately between very high quality sheets. It was bliss.
Having now climbed part way up the mountain I had set myself from youth at the age of eighty I had reached a plateau. I luxuriated myself in bed until after ten then got up and shaved and showered feeling somewhat like a new man. This year was going to be my year.
Emerging from my room, itself decorated with beautiful pictures I emerged into the glorious light flooded living room with its wonderful, actually, picture gallery. I was luxuriating in this glow when Lady and Miles entered the room.
'Good morning Perry.' They said in unison.
I felt so good. I broke into a big smile quite uncharacteristically and gave them as good as I got with a bright cheery hello to both. I did feel good for perhaps only the second time in my life and I've forgotten the first, all weights were lifted from my shoulders.
Lady and Miles explained that they too were fulfilling a lifelong dream of spending a year in Europe pointing out the delights they expected to find. Shifting to me they pointed out many features of New York that I might not have found myself but sad to say as my year was to progress differently than I had planned I never visited any of them.
I gave some indication of my intentions most of which I never fulfilled while reassuring them that their apartment was in good hands. I assured them I intended to have no visitors as I wanted as few as possible to know where I lived so that they need have no fears.
After viewing the great library with them both I was taken downstairs to be introduced to Ottmar the doorman. Little did he know that his life was about to enter a new phase. He looked fiercely protective of his domain which pleased me greatly. Nothing like a good bulldog to keep the strays away.
Surprisingly they offered me the services of their chauffeur Ragnar and the accompanying limousine as they wanted to keep him employed so as not to lose him to someone else in their absence. I gratefully accepted. Ragnar too was about to enter the Twilight Zone. Free rent and transportation, there was a lifelong dream realized, was more than could be expected. And so the next morning my benefactors, for what else could they be, left for the delights of Europe such as they might be in this age of foreign invasion and I was left alone in my own little paradise.
I spent the rest of the day at home relaxing, ordering my mind and browsing the wonderful library. As Lady, Miles and I were roughly the same age I had most of the classics they did although their editions were much finer than mine. There was a nice selection of history and picture books, really nice art stuff, so I just put my feet up and loafed and loafed. It really felt good. Lord, what a wonderful feeling. May you have such joy yourself.
On Saturday, that is the next day, I called Ragnar to bring his limo around and had him drive me up to the Met to view some more pictures and objets d'art.
Ragnar along with Ottmar were both Germans which pleased me greatly. Ottmar was older and more regal but with a very fine mind while Ragnar, somewhere, over thirty, was harder looking, seeming to more on the qui vive, perhaps a little shady. We hadn't much to say at the moment as I was twenty-five feet away in the back and he was behind the wheel. I preferred it that way. It gave me time to think. We would become more familiar but enough for now.
Ragnar pulled up in front of the Met walking back to open the door for me. I could have popped out myself and preferred to but I thought it best to give myself maximum gravitas and maintain appearances. After all, this was New York City. I can tell you I got great respect emerging from a limo especially as I was dressed in my new persona of grey slacks (when was the last time you heard pants referred to as slacks?) green plaid jacket and princely cravat. I smiled around benignly at the gapers and mounted the steps.
The museum while not crowded was busy and I drifted from gallery to gallery in a sort of fugue or dream state. I hadn't become blasé so soon. I had stopped without thinking before a Claude landscape. My gaze was directed at it but almost in a state of self-hypnosis as my mind was occupied with other thoughts. I wasn't really seeing anything when a voice as though from a dense fog came to my left ear: 'Well, Partly Wright unless I'm mistaken.'
Startled at being recognized I turned to see Lessing Farquhar. I stammered, searching for his name as Lessing popped into my mind. 'Lessing, hello, what a coincidence.'
'Not really, Perry, I saw Ragnar and the limo on the street. He told me you were here. I've been wanting to talk to you so I popped in.'
'And you found me. I presume you no longer work, then?'
'No, thank the gods, no. I chucked that a few years ago. I made enough, especially in my thirties and forties and have had a couple nice inheritances since so I have no need for a job and no regrets about it. Lawyering wasn't that much fun, anyway. I take it you no longer have your shoulder to the wheel?'
'Not remuneratively and not that wheel but I do my best to help struggling humanity along. Being above the fray gives you a better perspective. I just study and write; keep up the blog.'
'Seeing the shape the world is in it doesn't seem you're having much luck with your endeavors.'
'I haven't effected any major changes yet but I may have had some success moving things forward, changing attitudes.'
'A bold claim. How's that?'
'Well, Lessing, you know that a few years back, a decade or so. The savage Liberals were raging unobstructed as very few seemed to realize the true situation what with Ignatiev calling for the extermination of Whites without a dissenting voice. I was if not the first, one of the first, taking him seriously and sounding the alarm. Over the succeeding period I've been ahead of the curve in exposing and denouncing the Liberal agenda. Today it seems that a new awareness, consciousness, of what is being propagated has developed and that consciousness seems to reflect the attitude I've been trying to foment so I think, I hope, that my voice on the voter has not been without effect.'
'Just you and your computer, is that it? I've found your site interesting myself. Do you have many readers?'
'I've got a couple million reads over the decade I've been writing plus a lot of my stuff gets republished on other sites so I have no idea of my true reads. Suffice it to say I seem to see ideas reflected. If you're a reader Lessing I'd have to consider myself a success.'
'Actually, Perry, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was interested to learn that you're an E.T.A. Hoffman reader, especially The Serapion Brethren. I've been enchanted by the book myself, so much so that I've been organizing a New Serapion Brethren. I have myself and two others. I thought you might be interested in joining us. Instead of writing stories we're studying history and trying to trace the back stories, the things that get overlooked behind the printed histories. Do you think you might be interested?'
'I'd be very interested, Lessing, and flattered by the invitation. I'm in accord. You know how I think as you've read my stuff so you know the byways I search. No surprises? So, yes.'
'Excellent, Perry, excellent. I'll give you a call for our next meeting that should be a couple weeks from now. I have to go now, have some things to do. Expect a call tonight or tomorrow. 'Till then.'
And Lessing got up and walked away. Wonderful, there was nothing I wanted more than congenial company to discuss the weighty problems.
After spending a pleasant afternoon touring the Met I went back to my digs, don't you love calling a thirty million dollar condo, digs? I sure as heck do. Be that as it may I went 'home' to plan my next moves.
I spent that Sunday sitting looking out the floor to ceiling windows at the light dancing off the waters and boat traffic drifting around. I sat musing on how to order my miraculous year. Obviously one carry on bag of clothes wasn't going to do me much good nor would one suit of clothes. Still, I breathed easy, I was content, even happy at the prospect of building a new wardrobe. What the heck, at eighty what did I have to lose, life is short and what was left ahead of me was even shorter. I might not even live out the year. I had enough so I wouldn't go broke unless I lost all self-control, so what the heck.
From viewing street activity I also realized I would need several wardrobes. Driving around with Ragnar yesterday I realized what a diverse population, what bizarre costumes Manhattan boasted. Of course being well dressed was essential but there were neighborhoods in which it might be perilous. Hell, looking at some areas I saw it might be wise to buy a dress or two and bob my hair. I must have passed through Tranny Central. Anyway, shopping was first on my list. And then I was ravenous to visit New York's fabulous book stores.
I made the Strand Bookstore my first objective but then when Ragnar pulled up I suddenly decided to go to Harry's for a haircut and professional shave. I began using Harry's razors a few years before, I had always wanted to visit the shop so now was the time.
I could have walked up to McDougal Street but I thought it best to use the limo. I'm sure the style of my arrival wasn't unique in New York, still it placed me in a certain class. Fortunately I was early or I might not have gotten in. I didn't really need a haircut; two years previously I had devised my hair style and had gotten those Hollywood invisible cuts to maintain the same appearance at all times.
A couple snips and the haircut was finished, a few more moments for a shave and Ragnar whisked me over to the Strand. Billed as having miles of aisles the selection was incredible. You can imagine what New Yorkers could sell as used books. I actually came away with a couple hundred pounds of books including a great five volume set of Bancroft's record of the 1893 Chicago Columbian Exposition that I intended to offer as a gift to Miles and Lady. No home is complete without one.
Well, you know, you don't cover miles of aisles in a minute or two and I was not even thinking lunch amidst all those volumes so it was four before I called Ragnar around and let him load the tonnage. New York, New York, what a wonderful town. Of course I hadn't gotten to the underside yet.
If you don't like books you won't understand the exhilaration I felt the next morning looking at the mound of books sitting on the living room floor the next morning. I never got enough books for Christmas and always the wrong kind as a kid so whammo!- all the disappointments of those Christmases wiped away in one fell swoop. That Columbian Expo set was a real delight. Maybe I'll keep it and get Lady and Miles something else.
Bedtime found me still flipping pages and fondling covers. But, too much fun…I still had numerous duties and miles to go.
Lessing had called so I was obligated to write something for the meeting of the New Serapion Brethren two weeks hence. I decided to devote the day to wardrobe building. While no expert on New York still back on the Coast I had had my trusty computer with the ability to search. Oh yes, I ordered a new HP for my stay. I had visited New York way back in the seventies, but believe me, that was then and this was now so not exactly a novice I wasn't much more. The images on the net had given me some idea of what to expect along with reading New York Magazine. It was almost as though I had visited the stores.
The first thing I needed was some shirts, shorts too, but I figured that if I found shirts I would find shorts and perhaps socks too. I selected Charles Tyrwhitt for my shirts. Tyrwhitt was just a block up from James Carter on Madison Avenue. The latter was my choice for suits.
I was familiar with both stores' merchandise both from the net and catalogs. The world at my doorstep and all that. Picking up a couple dozen shirts from Tyrwhitt didn't involve any agonizing decisions although there was a moment's hesitation over a couple ties, I finally settled on five and bounced out of the store. I noticed a couple idlers as I got into the limo but didn't think too much of it.
Tyrwhitt is modestly priced while James Carter is on the high side, nothing like Brioni, but respectably high priced. They consider themselves expensive but fifteen hundred for a jacket is chicken feed compared to Brioni. If you really want to spend money believe me, you can do it. I wanted to make an impression at Carter so we pulled up in front while I took a long time getting out of the limo. As I sat there I noticed the idlers from Tyrwhitt drifting down to Carter's.
Could have been the limo but then they weren't that rare in the Big Bagel, as some people call it.
James Carter was high fashion dress. It was one of these classy stores, maybe three thousand square feet a floor, three floors, lots and lots of what they call negative space. Of course on a good day these guys could probably do a hundred thousand so I guess empty square footage didn't count against them too much. They'd probably have to have ten mill a year to make it. I was there to help them over the hump.
When it comes to today's fashions I am no admirer of them either men's or women's. It's not because I have a long memory although I will confess that as I was going to buy bespoke the designs I had in mind were very close to 1956. Check out the jacket Ferlin Husky wears on his record Boulevard Of Broken Dreams. But that involved no nostalgia or fogeyism; I just didn't like the short jacket too big for your britches look that prevailed.
And that's all they had on display, these horrid short jackets that look like they're two sizes too small including the more than tight fitting high water pants that they used to laugh at hillbillies for wearing. I was study a manikin trying to keep the look of disgust off my face when I was approached by a salesman elegantly decked out, obviously gay. But then what would expect in a men's store? After all, that's where the boys are. He wasn't objectionable just that arch attitude they have.
Nice looking fellow about six-three, slim, trim, and a million dollars on the hoof.
'Is there anything I can do for you?' He arched.
'Is this the only style of suit you're showing?' I arched back.
'This is the style of today.' He replied.
'Does that mean the only style you show?'
'This is THE style. It is what with it men are wearing.'
With it? I hadn't that one for a while.
'Yes. I'm a very with it guy but I interpret 'it' perhaps in a somewhat different manner. Perhaps I should confer with your tailors in the bespoke department.'
'That would be second floor, to your right.'
'Many thanks.' I said drily.
Then someone who might have been the floor manager swept up and said: 'Here, let me show you up.'
I almost said: Lead on MacDuff but I had gotten that one out of my system decades ago; I don't quote Shakespeare anymore. To be or not to be is a good workhorse but even that has fallen into desuetude.
I know many of you consider eighty to be a ripe old age but let me say as one who knows, eighty is not as old as it looks. It may be for some people, but for those of us who have either been lucky or taken care of themselves it is not a problem. I can walk for miles, believe me, a flight of steps was no difficulty, I could have taken them two at a time although my knees aren't what they were.
Because of my early childhood I had always played the goof or clown when under stress. Over the decades using self-analysis and Coue's auto-suggestion I had cleared out my fixations allowing me to function in a more or less clear state but I had still buckled under pressure.
Apparently there was another kind of conditioning beneath the fixations. I could feel the stirrings in my undermind but was unable to identify the cause although I would soon experience the effect. But not now.
While you may think a fitting trivial it was a profound test for me. It was a question of whether I could avoid being a mark or not. Men have all kinds of ways of marking each other as to how they will be treated; a great part of it in the clothes line is the clothes one is allowed to wear; another, if you break through the clothes taboo as I had several decades ago was to mark the clothes. While chance may allow most men to buy good clothes, markings he might not notice are affixed as it were to the clothes.
Unless you pass judgment for instance in suits you will not be allowed four buttons on the cuff. You will only be allowed three and in some instances two. Tailoring flaws such as bunching behind the neck and others define your station in masculine circles. These markings are always honored by others in the industry so that even if you know the markings it is nearly impossible to correct them.
I had always been in the three button class with a bunched neck in the fabric. I had been successful in my mid-years far exceeding most of my contemporaries thus their anger and resentment at being surpassed by someone they believed their inferior enraged them. And so I was marked. To complain about being marked is to no effect other than to give your tormenters pleasure. You can demand four sleeve buttons or whatever but in no way can you compel the tailors to correct the mark. There is a code.
The amusing thing is that since tailors are most frequently homosexuals their fellows are given top status in their tailoring so that they can pass other tests. Now I would not only have to appear as an A man but probably have to beg or should I say, command, a homosexual. It would be in the stance, the voice, the manner and most importantly in the eyes. My haircut was good; I had seen to that. Barbers are tough ones too because they are very astute analysts and excellent markers. It is hard to get by them. They don't go to school either they just learn and assimilate thus becoming supreme judges.
The manager was going to interview me first before I was allowed to see the tailor. The various marks he exhibited indicated homosexuality. As I say I had been experiencing subliminal stirring for several weeks indicating deep changes. I had even had an event simulating a heart attack that had been a significant psychological adjustment. Since then I had been more confident and much less diffident so I pulled up my reserves and went to work on the manager who gave his name as Steve.
Our eyes locked. He betrayed the insecurity of the homosexual; I saw and he recognized my recognition giving that appeal for acceptance that I knew so well. I smilingly overrode him as my eyes acknowledged him and subordinated him but the contest was not settled. My stance and mannerisms secured my masculinity over his although I began to feel that I was acting the Macho Man and that would give the wrong signal. Now, if I could control my voice. My undermind gave, wincing, but didn't erupt just yet. I was in control and meant to stay that way.
'And what can we do for you, Mr. Wright?' Michael Ignatiev asked.
'I'm here to buy some sartorial splendor, Michael.' A little too florid indicating frivolousness.
'This is the place isn't it? That's a very nice jacket you've got on now. May I ask who made it?'
'I don't mind. This is a Brioni designed by Eric Ross circa 1975.'
'Nineteen seventy-five? Really? I know Brioni of course but I haven't hear of Eric Ross.'
'He was a little before your time. I don't remember his last name. Like your James Carter Eric Ross was his son's two first names just like your founders' the Osipov's. He was Jewish, in love with English styling adapted to US traditions also, like your shop. He mixed in everything. He was big on the cowboy look…;
'Cowboy, eh? You seem knowledgeable about James Carter. You learned about us where?'
Dewey turned around to show his back. 'See how the seams turn toward the shoulders in the back? Cowboy style. I almost didn't patronize Eric Ross because of that. Once I got started there was no stopping me. Loved the stuff; I'm so happy are careers coincided. In answer to your question I studied your internet site. It tells you what you what you want your customers to think of you.'
'Oh yes, our internet site. So what happened with Eric Ross?'
'I was in a different business but we both epitomized the Sixties, made it through the seventies and expired at the same time.'
'What happened?'
'The Sixties ethic wore out at the end of the seventies. As the saying goes: This too will pass and it did, tragically. The Sixties weren't what they were supposed to have been but they were still the Sixties. Charles Manson was imprisoned for our sins. Big changes happened too fast while there was no time to adapt. I was in London in late seventy-eight, looked around and all the peacocks were wearing grey and black. I realized the ethic was dead. I rushed back to buy a black straight legged suit from ER and told it him it was over. The Sixties we loved so much were no longer happening.
The record business I was in collapsed in on itself and changed over to CDs at the same time leaving me high and dry while Eric Ross was caught in the midst of a big expansion, Japan actually, quite like yourself. Many parallels that drew me to you. ER had a store full of expensive obsolete goods and a container of Brioni suits sitting on the dock in Italy that he left stranded because he didn't have the cash and couldn't get the credit. Boom! Just like a Stuka dive bomber that didn't pull out of the dive.
I got some memories out of it although I wasn't laughing at the time, not even for show. As I say Eric Ross was rather slavishly devoted to the English ideal. His son's initials are ER so he devised his brass buttons after the royal insignia. My wife and I were visiting the Rothschild estate, Waddington, open to the public we weren't invited, and I was wearing the blazer with the ER buttons, Elizabeth Regina in England not Eric Ross. I kept getting these looks while being gently shunned. It wasn't until a couple years later that I figured it out.
By the way if you like old seventies movies and TV reruns you will be able to notice ER clothes appearing frequently. They usually give a shot of the cowboy back. He was quite the rage.' My voice and delivery was perfect.
'That is humorous. So, you like fine clothes? Nothing downstairs interested you?'
'Nice work, wrong styles. When the style changed to that American Gigolo look back then, if you know that movie, I stopped buying and haven't begun again till now but I still reject current styles. They're offensive. Looks like someone's telling you you're too big for your britches; like wearing a baseball cap backwards. So, I want something more along the line of what I'm wearing, longer skirts than currently, hate those short jackets. Of course we can skip the cowboy influence. I'll want some different fabrics also.'
'Yes, we can do that. I think it will be a pleasure working with you. How about Tuesday at ten AM for your first fitting?'
'Of course, that would be fine.'
I should have known about the fitting. Strange me, expecting to be fitted the same day.
I phoned Ragnar then talked to a salesman before Ragnar pulled up a few minutes later.
As I walked out of the store the idlers were still waiting. One approached and said: The Jews gave us monotheism.
I shrugged him off and hopped into the limo.
The limo had just pulled from the curb when Ragnar asked if he could talk to me. I said sure, just park the limo somewhere and I'd come up front. I didn't want anyone invading my private space in back. Unlike Rosa Parks I had no qualms in the back. Nowadays it is being said that as a Commie she, or they, planned the situation. If so, I wonder, was the guy who told her to move in on it. If it was staged was the media in on it?
Ragnar had his ways and means as he drove the limo under a building containing any number of limos. Money has its prerogatives including private parking lots. I went up front and slid into the passenger's seat.
Ragnar hesitantly asked me what the guy had said to me. I replied: He said we owed monotheism to the Jews.
'Why would he say that to you?'
'I don't know who he represents, Ragnar, but I assume he was referring to my critical historical essays on the internet in which the Jews are given their true historical roles. I assume that my criticisms have taken effect but in defense of the Jews monotheism is considered preeminent. This happens fairly frequently back home.'
'But how would he know you? You're new to New York while being from far away?'
'This is the internet age, Ragnar. As the saying goes, you can run but you can't hide. Contrary to propaganda society is full of secret societies while with the internet they are effective anywhere in the world. Did you notice the guy at the airport holding up the card with my name on it? I have no idea what organization sent him. If the Carmichaels and I hadn't maintained internet contact exchanging pictures of you and I, I might have mistakenly gone with him or them.
I might be floating face down on the East River now or perhaps six fathoms down in cement shoes. When you're in movement you're more vulnerable.'
'You think they would have killed you?'
'Why not? I can't imagine they just wanted to talk to me?'
'Who are you? I noticed other people following the limo or showing up wherever you go. Who are these people?'
'Ragnar, you're asking the wrong guy. I don't know who they are and don't particularly care. I'm sure there is more than one group involved. Possibly the Feds, possibly Jewish organizations, possibly homosexual groups, some freelance guardians of public morals, Reds of some sort, hard to tell. I write critical historical articles that 'offend' the hyper sensitive. For all I know they might be admirers who don't know how to approach me. I do speak for at least a large minority. That's the way it is; nothing I can do about it.'
'And they already know that you're in New York?'
'Of course, the internet, Ragnar, the internet. There's nowhere you can go without them following you around. They all have cell phones and post lookouts to track your movements. Believe it or not they have nothing better to do. The Jews, for instance, on the fiftieth anniversary of Kristalnacht posted guys on the hill outside my house in case, I suppose, I consecrated the day by bombing a synagogue. They're all nuts, crazy as loons, obsessed by their fantasies, reality is just an impediment to their beliefs. Actually I'm used to them; if they weren't there I'd be disappointed because they would no longer think I was important.
Sort of like Gloria Vanderbilt who got a lot of press attention when her parents were getting a divorce. Every morning a gaggle of reporters were waiting outside the house. She got used to them, one morning when she and her parents were no longer news the reporters weren't there. 'Mommy,' she said, 'Where are my reporters?' I feel the same way. If they weren't around I'd have to ask what went wrong.'
'Watching you on Kristalnacht? The Jews really give us Germans a hard time. I'm not so sure us Germans were in the wrong.'
'Of course you weren't Ragnar, but Bismarck made a mistake in not occupying and annexing France in eighteen seventy-one. Instead he settled for Alsace-Lorraine and a bundle of cash. You Germans paid a heavy price for that in the World Wars and after. And of course the Jewish war against you continues today and has spread to the United States where the Jews have convinced Americans that they too are Nazis and guilty for their extermination. Scratch a White person they say and you will find a Nazi. It's crazy.'
'I don't understand how Bismarck has anything to do with Hitler.'
'The Interdependence Of Things as your great writer ETA Hoffmann called it. It's all connected Ragnar, it's all connected. You just have to find the connections. If Bismarck had conquered the whole of France, incorporating it into a Greater Germany much as did Charlemagne, then sending tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of settlers into France instead of having them emigrate to the US and Russia he would have created a huge country that would have changed the destiny of Europe.'
'The French would never have tolerated that.'
'Sure they would have. When Caesar conquered Gaul Roman settlers flowed in changing the demographics of what was then Celtic Gaul creating Roman Gaul. The Gauls, however reluctantly, accepted a superior civilization eventually getting comfortable with it. There might have been more trouble if the Gauls had been superior but then they weren't.
Later the German tribes invaded, Franks and what have you, that dominated the Gallo-Romans by force creating the country as France, the land of the Franks. Napoleon wiped out perhaps the majority of Franco-Germans in his wars since he favored the taller Germans over the shorter Gallo-Romans as soldiers. Still in eighteen seventy-one there was a large body of Franco-Germans who would have blended with Bismarck's new immigrants. Sure it would have been a taut situation for a generation or two but the German civilization was superior to the French so as life would have been better under the Germans it wouldn't have taken too long for the populations to meld.
The result would have been a reuniting of the two western parts of Charlemagne's empire creating a European super state that would have drawn all Europe into its orbit. There would have been no WWI and consequently no WWII. England would have been trapped between a Greater Germany and the US. How that would have worked out is anybody's guess. So as I see it Bismarck not having Napoleon's vision blew it when he retired back into the newly united German States.
Now, consider the European situation today Ragnar.
The result of WWII that left Europe and Germany prostrated was that the Jews undeservedly scored a huge moral victory. Having mounted the dais as victorious victims they unleashed a propaganda campaign against not only Germany but the West as a whole that totally morally disarmed both Europeans and Americans leaving the Jews to call the shots. I think it was one of your German generals who said that peace is war by other means. Perceptive fellow he.
The West has been bled white of more billions than you can count supporting the failed State of Israel. Indoctrinaires such as France's Sarkozy and the dumbest woman on the planet, Angela Merkel, of Germany have worked in combination with the Jews to destroy Europe. As in Spanish days when the Jews opened the doors to Moslem invaders the three have conspired to flood Europe with Negro and Moslem hordes.
Sarkozy who was unable to pass a law compelling White women to marry Negroes has instead opted to flood France with Africans who will eventually mongrelize Europe. Merkel has welcomed, indeed, invited millions of Moslems into Germany and hence Europe that has overstrained social, economic and political matters while stressing water and food supplies to the point of exhaustion. The whole structure has actually been broken down. The whole of Europe will be impoverished except the Jews.
Unlike the Roman and German invasions of Gaul and France in which a higher civilization did or would have replaced an inferior one the millions of Moslems and Africans now colonizing Europe represent either primitive or medieval inferior peoples. Africans and Moslems have no hope of maintaining any semblance of European civilization. Nor can they be taught. There lies the great tragedy.
All this is the result of Bismarck's not following through and annexing France into a Greater Germany. Had he had vision all of this could have been avoided. Europe would have been a happier place. The Bolsheviks would never have been able to appropriate Russia. The Jewish people would have of course continued their activities to destroy Europe with what result we can't see. As peace is war by other means peace may have favored their plans as much as war. Perhaps today Europe would have been a Jewish empire anyway. So, Ragnar.'
The story continues in Clip 2.
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Part Four: The European Holocaust
The European Holocaust
We have come to the decision
That one or the other shall live,
Totalitarianism or democracy,
Tyranny or freedom,
And that it is as impossible for the two
To live in the same world
As it is for darkness and light
To inhabit the same space at the same time.
One of them must be crushed
And the other live triumphant,
And there can be no peace
And there will be no peace,
Until Tyranny is crushed…
Charles A. Beard
Quoting Senator Claude Pepper
Appearances and Realities p. 50
The success of the Bolshevik Revolution essentially replaced Nationalism with Internationalism or Collectivism or in the political and economic terms of the time the opposition was styled Capitalism and Communism by the Communists. I will refer to the two ideologies as Individualism and Collectivism.
As loyalty was then not based on nationality but on ideology after 1917 the concept of treason changed also. Thus a Communist Englishman could betray his State while being loyal to his ideology. As the socialist homeland was the Soviet Union loyalty was thus attached to the Soviet Union, or Russia in the common parlance, thus being double treachery. This was ill understood at the time and may be so today.
When the Comintern, or Communist International in longform, established stations in cities such as Berlin, Paris, London and New York the Comintern agents had a large supporting network of local sympathizers or Fellow Travelers cooperating with them against their States. As the war was between light and dark as Pepper stated all opponents were evil and styled Fascists. Every State was veined with Communist operatives. As the Communists were trying to subject each State the operatives had every reason to deny who they were. Denial became their way of life, dissembling their method.
In the Soviet Union controlled by the Communists, the Reds, could operate openly as themselves and they did, killing, starving and running Siberian death camps for any that opposed them. There was only room for one ideology, it could live while all others must die as Pepper said. 'WE have had to come to the decision that one or the other shall live…' Pepper was obviously a Collectivist and not improbably a Soviet agent. Alert observers in the West could not hope but notice this putting them into violent opposition. It became necessary as Pepper said to stamp the Other flat, dead.
Huge security organizations arose in all the States. Numerous revolutionary attempts were made in the various States as the Bolsheviks were leading an international revolution hoping to establish Communism in one fell blow. The revolutions in European States are easily identified while that in the US is characterized as social disturbances.
The great social disturbances of 1919-21 were actually part of the revolution but have been misrepresented to appear as just spontaneous social disorders. However the disorders do appear to be part of an organized plan.
They certainly appeared that way to Wilson's Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer. Palmer arrested thousands, deported hundreds and harassed the rest. As might be expected this very reasonable man and able AG was depicted as a deranged monster by Communist sympathizers who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. To this day the campaign against Mitchell is carried on.
Surveillance systems at the time were primitive compared to today but with all the bomb throwers and crazed radicals running around fairly openly in the land of the free it would seem impossible that the Justice Department wasn't keeping tabs, therefor one has to assume that Mitchell Palmer must have known what he was doing. He cannot have been entirely off base in his arrests regardless if some mistakes were made or not. The Communist Children Of Light were hustling people off to the death camps at the same time.
Most significantly the opponents of Mitchell's actions were those who sympathized most ardently with the Soviet program. These people were also the first to call those who opposed Collectivist activities Fascists and Isolationists in the next decade. One therefor has to applaud Palmer for his prompt and effective actions. He saved the country from a revolution that would have been as bloody and repressive as that in the Soviet Union. Remember, according to Pepper only the Collectivists could be allowed to live. The Justice Dept. in fact was responsible for disarming the Communist threat as their tight surveillance continued through 1919, '20 and '21 when the Harding Administration broke up the Grand Rapids, Michigan convention that drove the Reds completely underground. The Harding administration outlawed the Communist Party, made it illegal, for a brief period in 1921 until the Soviet sympathizers had the law repealed as 'un-American.' The Comintern continued their activities in the US drawing complaints from Coolidge and Hoover. A condition of Roosevelt's administration in recognizing the Soviet Union was that the Comintern cease American activities. Of course the agreement was ignored while the Party quickly infiltrated FDR's government. Thus the so-called war to save democracy was subverted in every way in favor of totalitarian Communism.
In point of fact all of the various national Communist Parties were well over fifty percent Jewish. This fact is no longer denied although the Jews vehemently denied it at the time. Thus the Jews and the Communists were irrevocably opposed to any other ideology but their own. That means it was intent to infiltrated and overthrow all non-Communist governments.
As FDR expressed it there were totalitarian aggressor nations and democratic peace loving nations of which the former were evil and the latter righteously virtuous. Roosevelt identified only Germany, Italy and Japan as aggressor nations and he demanded they be quarantined or in religious terms, ex-communicated, made outlaw nations beyond the law.
What these 'aggressor nations' had in common was that they were all staunchly anti-Communists. It therefore follows that all other countries had a strong enough Communist presence so that they were no threat to the Communist ideology, given time and patience they would be brought within the Pale. That also means that Roosevelt was a Communist as would later be proven in his obeisance to Stalin in WWII.
The key figure in this political configuration was Joseph Stalin. He accepted the role of coordinator of worldwide Communist activities. Thus, as pointed out above through the Comintern he established subversive nodes in all the Western capitals. While nationalistic feelings were still the standard, nationals ideologically attuned to Communism served as conduits of sensitive material to the Soviet Union central node of Moscow and Stalin. Thus one had dozens or hundreds of Dreyfuses funneling information to the enemy.
Stalin and the Soviet Union, then, was actually the key aggressor operating through the various Communist Parties. In the East Japan was the enemy of Communism. The Soviets were able to create a strong Chinese Communist Party in the South of China. The Japanese countered Soviet aggression in North China and interfered with the Soviets in Outer Mongolia where Soviet aggression was complete while at the same time Soviet infiltration of Sinkiang province in China's Northwest was accelerated.
As Japanese activity in North China from Manchuria, or Manchukuo as the Japanese renamed it, became more effective Stalin moved the Chinese Communists under Mao Tse Tung, Ze Dong as he is currently styled, North as a buffer between the Soviets and Japanese. The Japanese remained a source of anxiety to him in the East as Germany was in the West. If he could maneuver the US into a war with Japan in the East he would then have a free hand against Germany in the West.
In the West after 1933 and the accession of the Nazi's the Axis 'aggressors' merited watching. The Nazi leader, Adolf Hitler, was an effective leader. No one in the West had expected him to be elected as the leader of Germany. He was universally despised as an upstart while the Jews especially considered him dangerous.
Serving as a corporal in the WWI he had served honorably and meritoriously having been decorated twice. Post-war he served in German intelligence given the task of monitoring a Munich Volkist unit. As their ideology meshed with his he took the Party over renaming it the National Socialist German Worker's Party, the NSDAP or Nazi's. In the aftermath of the war Communist revolutionaries flooded back into Germany from Russia fomenting several revolutionary attempts which were defeated by the various Volkist units. Thus from the end of the war until the Nazi success of 1933 there was perpetual street warfare between the Judeo-Communists and the Volkists, after 1924 mainly the Nazi Party.
The Germans had been betrayed by Wilson and his Fourteen Point proposal. The Fourteen Points was actually a peace offering, a request for an armistice, that is a laying down of weapons on both sides allowing the struggle to be mediated. The Germans were tricked as when they lay down their arms the Allies didn't preferring to believe the Germans has been conquered. Nor did the war end there as the Allies continued the blockade of Germany for months after the armistice starving innumerable Germans to death. Quite vicious when you think about it.
Having fooled the Germans the allies showed them no mercy imposing draconian conditions on them while forcing them under duress to sign a document confessing that they alone were responsible for the war.
Psychologically of course the forcing of the confession was a confession of their own guilt projected on the Germans. The French as in WWII were the most vicious of the lot. There was no affront or indignity too slight or too evil to heap on the Germans. Bringing in African troops after taking over the Rhineland they quartered these still savage tribesmen in German homes. Granted a carte blanche to abuse the Germans the Negroes took full advantage of it. German husbands and fathers were afraid to go to work as their women folk were raped and abused by the savages. Such was only one insult and injury.
Remember that German hatred was shared by all of the allies. This hatred was carried to the point of genocide as allied bombing of German cities and civilians in WWII would prove. Is it any wonder that Hitler and the Nazis acted aggressively then to recover their dignity, manhood and self-respect. Recent scholarship is bringing to light Hitler's reluctance to go to war He is now beginning to be portrayed as more reasonable but seventy years of the most hateful propaganda is difficult to reverse.
For the Jews Hitler was a menace before becoming Chancellor and Reichs-Feuhrer. Remember the German Communist Party was at least 60% Jewish so all those street battles were largely between Volkists and Jews with the Jews getting whipped, many of them interned immediately in concentration camps. There can be no surprise then that after 1933 the Nazis outlawed Communism and disenfranchised the Jews. A war between Jews and Germans had been in progress for decades and nearly a shooting war between 1917 and 1933.
Today the Jews are at war with the Whites of America having been successful in imposing civil disabilities on White males essentially placing them outside the law. Who is to say then that Wolf Hitler was not prescient in taking the precautions against the Jews that he did? If the Jews had won, what then?
As Hitler wrote in Mein Kampf that he knew that if the Volkists lost the war their head would roll in the sand. That was a true statement as events in Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution had shown. If the Jews had beaten the Volkists in Germany multiples of six million would have been murdered, if not perhaps the entire German nation. Don't waste your sympathy on the Jews; they have plans for you.
As we will see, by 1940 Theodore Kaufman had articulated those plans calling for the physical extermination of the Germans that was legislated as the Morgenthau Plan under Roosevelt four years later. FDR would have gleefully implemented it. Thank God he was called to the Bosom Of Abraham before he had the chance. Even Truman had to kick Morgenthau out of his cabinet to forestall the annihilation of Germans.
So the period from 1933 to 1942 in the US was one of preparing for and fomenting war against Germany to gratify the Jews. Make no mistake the US began preparing for war in 1933 when Roosevelt assumed the presidency.
The Communist ideology had been stalled from 1921 to 1933 by a succession of Republican presidents- Harding, Coolidge and Hoover- who were ardently anti-Communists. To be anti-Communist was to be anti-Jewish, that is anti-Semitic. For that reason all three presidents have been defamed as great failures. The period is derogatively styled 'Normalcy.' The 'failing' of course is being of a different and more successful ideology than the Communists.
Harding inherited the mess of Wilson's last two years when the latter was incapacitated. The failed revolution of 1918-1921 was still raging. A wave of 'criminality' was surging. Post office robberies were rampant, even to the looting of pick up boxes. Harding's Post-Master General Will Hays quickly cleaned up that mess. In 1920 Jews had stolen twelve million dollars worth of Liberty Bonds to help finance the revolution. Within six months all this was cleared up. Compare the stolen bonds with the Jewish counterfeit German money that Mussolini showed Ambassador Phillips. Why rob banks when you can manufacture all the cash you need.
The Federal Bureau of Investigation was established to deal with the rising malfeasance. J. Edgar Hoover was appointed Director in 1924 beginning his long career. Hoover was death on Communists. However having been reinstated as a legal Party they were immune to arrest per se. A powerful tool had been removed through the influence of covert Reds
As Harold Ickes said: You wonder why Harding died? You have to ask? My free translation of Ickes words of course.
As closet Reds then, the Communists always had to deny themselves. They infiltrated the media the better to bore from within. It was necessary to adopt a Red or 'Liberal' line for authors to get published. As one editor said: all the best writers are Communist leaning. Learning the ropes meant that a writer adapted to the new conditions just as today to get published you have to be pointedly, Leftist, pro-homosexual, pro-Jewish and a Feminist as well as being slavish to Negroism.
When Roosevelt came in the Reds came out quickly moving in on Hollywood as the talkies came in allowing a better means to get the message across. Protected by the Roosevelt Administration Communist infiltration of the movies didn't become a real issue until after Roosevelt died and then the Hollywood investigations began along with the Communist blacklist instead of the opposite and the yelping about injustice began.
During the Republican Interregnum or Normalcy or the New Era, the period was rife with titles, all three presidents were interfered with by the Comintern causing at least Hoover to complain. The undermining became obvious during the Hoover presidency when the engineered stock market crash came down and a great depression began. Continued prosperity would have meant a continuation of Republican 'American Plan' presidents and that could not be allowed so a disaster was created allowing Roosevelt's election.
With Roosevelt came the collectivist or Communist ideology and the old America was dead, much as when Obama was elected. Some say the first America was from 1789 to 1860, the second from 1860 to 1933. Roosevelt inaugurated the third and the Moslems created the fourth in 2001.
Roosevelt's election coincided with Hitler's election as Chancellor so along with Stalin the three most important actors of the period through 1945 took the stage. Stalin would hang in there until he outwore his welcome in 1953 but Roosevelt and Hitler would die within a few weeks of each other in 1945.
Stalin was indisputably the master of the three. Roosevelt being weakest and most inept. Roosevelt is something of a mystery. He came to Washington with a whole coterie of Jews. Nor was his entry unplanned by the Jews. They were prepared on all fronts, they knew the battle plan. Brandeis and Frankfurter had a legion on doctrinaires both Jewish and not who through Roosevelt placed them in sensitive positions in all departments. Most notably they made a beeline for the Agricultural Department.
It was there that control of the food supply lay. Shortly after the turn of the century a man called David Lubin had devised a plan to gain control of the North American food supply as well as other commodities. He enlisted a San Francisco lawyer named Aaron Sapiro to propagate the plan while he departed for Italy. While Sapiro's success was fitful by 1924 it came to the attention of Henry Ford who understood that the plan was intended to lead to a control of the food supply.
He undertook to expose Sapiro and his plan. Sapiro then sued Ford for defamation. The trial was declared a mistrial. Rather than undertake another trial Ford bought Sapiro off but in the process of the trial Sapiro was exposed more or less as a fraud and his effort and career were ruined at the trial's end in 1927. The plan to capture the food supply had been in limbo since '27 but now with Roosevelt the Jews began to institute a new and better plan backed by the government. Agriculture would be much different in 1945 when Roosevelt headed out to sea. It would be similar to that of the Soviet Union.
Operatives were also prominent in State and the Treasury. This cadre of operatives was known as Frankfurter's Happy Hot Dogs.
Even more remarkable is the fact that as early as election night victory NYC Jews were naming new born sons Franklin Delano Goldstein or whatever. Why would they have thought FDR was one of theirs? And, in fact, why did FDR enact the Jewish program consonant with that of the Soviet Union?
This is very puzzling. When did Roosevelt become so enamored of the Jews that he became an advocate of their interests? I can offer only a tentative solution but it does explain FDR's remarkable behavior.
There was a great contest for financial control of the US at the turn of the century headed by JP Morgan interests on the one hand and on the other the Jews led by Jacob Schiff of Kuhn-Loeb. Connected to the Jewish interests was the goi railroad magnate E.L. Harriman. In the first years of the century the battle was led by Morgan on the one side and Schiff/Harriman on the other. The battle would be decided in 1913 when the Jews captured the Federal Reserve giving them control of the US currency. Morgan and the American representatives were thus elbowed aside.
But an interesting thing happened earlier in 1901. With the huge influx of Russian Jews from 1870 to 1914 came the Settlement House movement of which Jane Addams' Hull House in Chicago is the most famous example. In NYC the Rivington Street Settlement was the most prominent. The Houses were meant to assist immigrants to assimilation. Addams was a Socialist and I'm sure were the others.
In 1901 Edward Harriman's nineteen year old daughter Mary led eighty young society girls down to the Lower East Side, slumsville, to assist in Jewish acculturation or so we are led to believe. This was the beginning of the Jr. League that still exists today.
You can imagine the impact on Jewish psychology of all these elite upper class society girls condescending to leave the comforts of uptown to mingle with downtown Jewish immigrants. Now, I mean, these people were from the very edge of civilization in Russia. I don't want to go into details but these were an unkempt, rude bunch of bumpkins. If they had been Hillbillies no one would have given a turnip for them. Truly the mountain had come to Mohammed. Whatever notion the Jews had of being the impoverished aristocrats of the world such a thought would have seemed justified. It was like the Byzantine emperor traveling to Simon Stylites' column in the desert to escort him to Constantinople in triumph. Mary Harriman had created the Junior League.
In 1903 the League was joined by Eleanor Roosevelt and her suitor Franklin Roosevelt.
The appearance of this scion of Old New York must have astounded the Jews even more. Perhaps other young society swains made their way downtown also, I don't know.
Now, anyone who thinks the Jews were idly sitting on their hands is mistaken. One might well ask how the idea of invading Rivington to 'help' Jews entered young Mary Harrington's mind. Her father was obviously intimate with not only the leading financial Jews of the day such as Jacob Schiff but undoubtedly was familiar with the top echelon of Kuhn Loeb and probably most of the significant Jews of his day. Might not he and they have conspired to indoctrinate these young society girls to assimilate with the Jews of Rivington Street?
If one thinks on it, there is something quite similar here to Eddie Bernay's , you remember him, the publicist, plan to encourage women to smoke Lucky Strike cigarettes for George Washington Hill. Hill wanted to expand Lucky's base and since women were not smoking he wanted to get them started. Bernay's said he could do it. He got a number of young society women to march down Fifth Avenue's Easter parade lighting up in front of the photographers and attending police. Eddie characterized these cigarettes as Freedom Torches. He succeeded in his plan as Lucky's sales increased dramatically. So, the point! Propaganda. These girls of the Junior League (a league of young women, excellent propaganda device) then were setting an example for all the young women in America- be kind to your Jewish friends and serve them.
The Jews advanced rapidly on their arrival. Their population in New York reached 25-30 percent allowing them to immediately elect city, county, State and even national representatives. For the nonce however NYC mayor or NY State governor was beyond their reach. To occupy those offices they would need surrogates who were gois. But these were easily found. And in their long range vision they could see a puppet in the supreme office of President of the United States. Al Smith led the way as governor but failed in his bid for the presidency but they had another ready and that other was Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Al Smith had been a pawn of the Jewish political genius Belle Moskowitz plus a coterie of Jews. Al was originally a part of the Irish Tammany Hall before the Jews captured him. As governor of New York Al had implemented essentially the Jewish program contra Tammany. When he failed in his presidential bid of 1928 the Jews discarded him for Roosevelt. As governor Roosevelt forced Tammany's mayor Jimmy Walker out to be replaced by the Jewish Fiorello LaGuardia. When he left office he cleared the way for the first Jewish New York governor, Herbert Lehman. So now the Jews had captured the mayoralty of NYC and governorship of NY.
As Roosevelt was even more the Jewish puppet than Al Smith one has to ask why. The Jews who had been fighting the German Volkists for a decade declared war on Germany on Hitler's election while Roosevelt began dutifully talking and preparing for war upon his inauguration. One must ask why? Why were his sympathies so Jewish against the best interests of the rest of the country which he ignored?
I am only speculating but those interests would have predated his presidency by many years. I think an appropriate area of investigation would be what happened at the Rivington Street Settlement House when he and Eleanor served there. Eleanor while not 'anti-Semitic' didn't develop the same affinity for Jews as FDR. When he was elected governor she specifically advised him to steer clear of Belle Moskowitz and in a deprecating manner the Jews around Al Smith. Her associating with them at Rivington apparently made her skeptical of their qualities.
Franklin, on the other hand, was their robot. My guess is that he was hypnotized at Rivington, perhaps as a parlor game, and given the appropriate post-hypnotic suggestions. Thus he would have been the first Manchurian Candidate as president.
Even as early as his first Ambassador to the Soviet Union, William Bullitt, he began making concessions to Stalin that Bullitt insisted that he not make. He continued this practice with all his succeeding Ambassadors. By the time of his conferences with Stalin at Teheran and Yalta he appears to not have a mind of his own as he gave Stalin the whole courthouse. For instance at Yalta he insisted on having Alger Hiss along, a man the apparently had never met. At Yalta he signed incredible documents and yet couldn't remember having seen them, let alone signing them. He said he never would have signed them.
So, what then? Either he was completely deranged or he responded to post hypnotic suggestion. What other explanation could there be? How else can you explain his ridiculous obeisance to Stalin? Even Stalin was puzzled. After conceding to Stalin's every demand at Teheran Stalin puzzledly asked him what concessions he would make on his scheduled visit to the Saudi king. With a fair amount of anguish Roosevelt replied he would make him take all six million Jews in the US. That was probably as close to a rebellion in his hypnotized state that he could make. At any rate it points to the Jews as his problem.
We were fortunate that he died in 1945 but we would have been more fortunate if he had never been elected.
His German counterpart and bete noir because of the Jews was called Hitler whose friends called him Wolf. There was universal antipathy to Wolf that probably was due to his plebeian origins. His manners were less refined than others of the governing class. Coming essentially of peasant stock while living the life of a Subterranean in his youth which means he had few of the social graces, and spending the war years as a trench runner he didn't have appropriate social background to gain the respect of the 'privileged.' He was laughed at by the career politicians and despised. In Germany when he gained command of the armed forces you may be sure that the officer caste repudiated him as a former enlisted. The chasm between officers and enlisted is deep and wide and cannot ever really be crossed although a few enlisted do make it to the other side. They do not find acceptance. The officers hated Wolf so much that they sabotaged the war effort bringing defeat, incredible suffering and unbearable humiliation on their own country and people. Truly, they bit off their noses to spite their faces.
The perception of Hitler has been unremittingly obstructed for nearly a hundred years of Jewish defamation.
A reevaluation if not rehabilitation of Wolf has begun in recent years as the whole history of period has come up for review and debunking. Slowly the Jewish distortion is being corrected. The plain fact of the matter is that politicians would not deal fairly with Hitler even though Wolf began very reasonably under the vilest of conditions. The Augean stables he was trying to clean up were more foul than those Hercules sanitized.
The Germans were being treated execrably even being denied their humanity. They were admitted to the League of Nations as a pariah people to be kept at arm's length. Great crimes were committed against them as in the hateful French occupation of the Rhineland. Nearly all their resources were appropriated by the French and other nations in an effort to impoverish them forever to prevent their out competing their less capable neighbors including the French. The Europeans might as well have said: 'You're our niggers now.' What were the French trying to say when they quartered African colonials in German households? I think the answer is obvious.
If the Europeans were unwilling to recognize German humanity what was Wolf to do? Since his enemies wouldn't negotiate honestly with what they considered an upstart but as though they were dealing with a lying idiot it did close out a lot of avenues for discussion. For instance, Wolf was not so foolish as to think war was anything but a last resort. He made handsome offers to the Polish government that would have been wise and beneficial for them to accept. It was Polish belligerence, thinking Germany weak, that forced Wolf into the pact with the Soviet Union and the partition of Poland.
Wolf tried repeatedly to keep the peace with both France and England; both countries lost their reason by engaging in a war that could not be won with their resources depleted by WWI, but they preferred suicide to giving Wolf Hitler the green light to attack one of the two true aggressor nations, the Soviet Union.
Wolf tried repeatedly to come to terms with the US but Roosevelt acting as a madman refused to deal with Hitler as an authoritarian leader although he had no trouble kowtowing to Stalin who was the very definition of authoritarian. He characterized the disagreement as a conflict between 'righteous democracy' and evil tyranny apparently not recognizing the hypocrisy of his attitude. In point of fact the Jews in the US and worldwide declared war on Wolf upon his election in 1933. Following their lead Roosevelt began preparations for war virtually on his inauguration.
Imbibing Jewish hatred of Germany and Germans I think it fair to say that he determined it would be a war to the knife, unconditional surrender and reconstruction as after the Civil War, or nothing.
Now, what did unconditional surrender mean to FDR? Let us look at the attitudes of the American Civil War and Reconstruction. Writing in his 'standard Southern history of the late war', The Lost Cause of 1870, E.A. Pollards quotes the New York Times on the war's advent: (italics in the original)
…we mean to conquer them [the Confederate States], not merely to defeat, but to conquer, to subjugate them. But when the rebellious traitors are overwhelmed in the field, and scattered like leaves before an angry wind, it must not be to retire to peaceful and contented homes! They must find poverty at their firesides, and see privation in the anxious eyes of mothers and the rags of children. The whole coast of the South from the Delaware to the Rio Grande must be a so
As it was prophesied so it came to be. Ulysses Grant demanded unconditional surrender which meant that the bodies and souls of Southern men, women and children become the property of the victorious North to dispose of as it pleased and that pleasure was the attempted genocide of the White people of the South.
That is what the unconditional surrender of the savage Roosevelt meant to the Germans and that is the way they were treated. They were treated as were the conquered and subjugated people of the South, a savage and evil reconstruction. Combined with Jewish hopes and desires the genocide of the Germans was intended beginning in 1933 as the Jews were starving millions of farmers in Russia into submission.
Like the men and women of the South who tried to secede from the Union so the Fascist countries had seceded from the authority of the 'peace loving' democracies. Democracy was somehow stretched to include the Soviet Union and there sat the Great Spider brooding watchfully over his web of deceit.
Stalin's was the directing mastermind. From the East of China and Japan to the Western shores of North America Stalin unfolded his great plan. The Germans did nothing that Stalin hadn't done before them and continued doing yet the defensive actions of Wolf Hitler and the Nazis were considered great crimes.
Just as Roosevelt in the US had his Jewish henchmen so Stalin in the USSR assembled a like coterie. Thus the Jews influenced both governments, if they didn't control them, in their own interests. They just hadn't calculated the unintended consequences of their warfare. If the war had gone as planned between the US and Soviet jaws of the vice the German people and the German State would have disappeared, a complete and total genocide to gratify Jewish vanities, while the two most powerful States in the world would have been under their control governing the world. Thus the millennium, the redemption would been realized (the Jewish thousand year Reich) but, a funny thing happened on the way to the Millennium.
Unfortunately for the Jews the plan misfired when Hitler, going to the source of the European problem, began by disenfranchising the Jews, removing them from sensitive positions in government, society and the universities, finally herding them into concentration camps along with their fellow Communists. In the process large numbers of Jews died giving rise to the notion of a Jewish holocaust. Of course any such Jewish holocaust was meaningless compared to the European holocaust they had fomented and the even more fearsome German holocaust perpetrated by the fine Christian gentlemen of the Allies.
Even as Wolf Hitler was disenfranchising the Jews, in the mid-thirties the Soviets, that is essentially the Jews, were ethnically cleansing the German farmers of the Ukraine and Volga Delta. Thus the German hatred cultivated in the nineteenth century was reaching a crescendo that had not the news been suppressed might have horrified the peace loving democracies of Roosevelt. As the Jews skillfully maneuvered behind the scenes, rarely letting themselves be seen except as victims no great notice was taken of their crimes.
The thirties was characterized by Eugene Lyons in his book as The Red Decade. Truly Communist ideology infiltrated everywhere, from the Union movement to the movies. The American social scene was allowed by the Roosevelt Administration to polarize as Communist, Liberal, Leftist, Red what you will, while any resistance to his program was characterized as 'Fascist.' Thus once again you had the Abolitionists vs. the slave owners. Angels and demons, much as Obama in our time characterizes his critics as 'Domestic Terrorists.'
Anyone, such as Charles Lindbergh, Hearst or Henry Ford who tried to inject a little reason into the situation was defamed in a criminal manner while either being destroyed economically or pushed to the wall.
Had they been heeded the war would have been avoided. Wolf Hitler was no fool; he had seen the destruction and misery of WWI, his wartime career as a trench runner and the gassing that nearly blinded him made an indelible impression on him. His political maneuvers were meant to restore dignity and self-respect to Germans and Germany. His purpose was to rectify the crimes of the Versailles Treaty.
He wanted peace with the West while fearing the Communists in the East but Roosevelt wanted war. There was no room on earth for the dissident nations. It was his way or the highway. He wanted to eradicate the Germans for what he considered criminal resistance to what he perceived as the right much as the Abolitionists of the Civil War wanted the South burnt to the ground for resistance to Northern desires. During the Civil War Sherman did burn Atlanta to the ground and devastated Georgia from Atlanta to the sea. A horrible piece of barbarity but nothing compared to Roosevelt's terror bombing of hundreds of German cities aimed directly at the genocide of German civilians. What a holocaust that was.
Fiendish devices were devised to create unbelievable terror. The cities of Hamburg and Dresden were bombed to oblivion while to complete the hatred incendiary bombs were deployed to set square miles aflame with the heat reaching such intense levels that the hydrogen and oxygen atoms separated causing the rivers to burst into flame. If you want to talk about crimes against humanity, my friends, consider Hamburg and Dresden. There are no innocents.
Part V continues to the Truman Administration.
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