midwest of the ocean
~ Thursday, August 08, 2024
Once the harassment stops and people go about their own lives instead of living vicariously through others, something amazing happens. The ethers clear and deep healing sleep is obtained. Incredible dreams can happen then. On one occasion I was sleeping on the porch of the Honolulu Temple. I saw beautiful dancing girls who were practically naked, wiggling and jiggling in that enticing way. I realized it was the strippers who were dancing at a downtown night club. Just heroin addicts who could simply dance away their lives.
Accessing the spirit world through illegal drugs is a reality for them. Just another lesson for druggies out there. You can cause trouble anywhere on earth. You will die doing so. Then what? Another round of the endless cycle of reincarnation which will be probably a lesser incarnation. Maybe you will become an insect or earthworm which could be your fate if you are so inclined downward.
The life of a devotee is about as tough as it gets. To be at a Hare Krsna temple living in the brahmachari you must complete 16 rounds of Japa which is 108 X 16=1728 times saying the maha mantra clearly, enunciating each syllable correctly. This must be done each day without fail to maintain your lowly status as temple resident. At each moment disaster can strike and take you out of the bona fide status and you are forced to leave. This is done in a manner similar to being thrown out of a monastery. You will never be allowed back in. There is always the tension and the threat of departure at any Hare Krsna temple.
The life of a devotee is about as tough as it gets. To be at a Hare Krsna temple living in the brahmachari you must complete 16 rounds of Japa which is 108 X 16=1728 times saying the maha mantra clearly, enunciating each syllable correctly. This must be done each day without fail to maintain your lowly status as temple resident. At each moment disaster can strike and take you out of the bona fide status and you are forced to leave. This is done in a manner similar to being thrown out of a monastery. You will never be allowed back in. There is always the tension and the threat of departure at any Hare Krsna temple.
In the younger days of ISKON there was a senior resident of the brahmachari who had the power of dismissal whom you either avoided like the plague or embraced like a brother depending on his mood each day.
Dressing in pucca style was essential. This was hard to accomplish because of the nature of the dress. The devotee spends much of his day just cleaning and starching his garb. You're given castoffs from wealthy devotees. You must accept other peoples junk or harvest from the clothesline leftovers. You will be given the most demeaning cleaning jobs possible.
Dressing in pucca style was essential. This was hard to accomplish because of the nature of the dress. The devotee spends much of his day just cleaning and starching his garb. You're given castoffs from wealthy devotees. You must accept other peoples junk or harvest from the clothesline leftovers. You will be given the most demeaning cleaning jobs possible.
The shaved head is a brutal requirement. One can never look good after a shave. If you were living a duplicitous life it is hard to explain to outsiders. Saying chemo will give you a response of avoidance or worse, complete scorn. The skullcap became the only way to handle this even in summer. You've got to hide yourself away from the prying eyes of the public.
There were many days at the Temple when I took the truck and drove to the North Shore, surfing at the various beaches near the blowhole, like Makapu Beach. It was a rough day to be in the water. A typical day though, for Hawaii. There was a tourist bus full of flowery shirted Germans awestruck by the majesty of nature. They all trekked to a rocky overlook that was a good twenty feet above the ocean. As if in slow motion a big set started to unfold on the beach ever closer to this bunch of retirees. They moved back a few paces which was not enough. The last wave in the set is always the biggest. The wave towered over their perch. The crashing wave engulfed them all. They were swept along the rocky outcropping. There was chaos as the bruised and battered bodies were retrieved by the surfers. Many were washed into the ocean. There is only so much they could do besides call the ambulance service, It took hours to account for everyone. No one escaped injury. Never underestimate the power of nature. Nature will win every time.
We all had to work. I chose the juice factory in downtown Honolulu. I would get up at 3 am jump on the English racer and rush off to work using the empty freeways rather than the deserted streets. It cut my travel time down going this way. One morning, I entered the freeway thinking I had a clear shot. A brand new car was zooming down the highway oblivious to a bike rider. Luckily, he managed to steer clear of me but collided with the curb. No damage done to me but his wheels needed to be realigned. I chose a different route to work from then on.
Kanva got to Hawaii by smuggling himself inside the wheel well of a passenger jet. This guy had been there from the beginning with Prabupad. It is an amazing story of survival. I asked him how cold was it. He smiled 'cold enough to freeze the balls on a brass monkey.'
All this is just the beginning. The strict vegetarian diet is a killer in itself. All the goodness has been processed out. There is absolutely no chance of deviation from this norm as everyone takes food from the same place. Cut up fruit in the morning with oatmeal and altar sweets will take away your stamina quickly reducing you to a mind numbing vegetable in short order. This is a no protein diet except for the milk.
Your health suffers. Frequent colds and fever follow sleeping on the hardwood floors without padding. A devotee averages roughly 4 to 6 hrs. per night, if that much. Sometimes no sleep is what you are left with if there is no place left to lie down. Those days are the worst.
The bathroom is about the sickest place imaginable. No soap is ever stocked or clean towels hung. You are lucky if you even get hot water which is never hot, only lukewarm. Everyone is body aware and completely shy about natural functions. There is only one toilet. The population can go up to twenty living in a space about the size of a small bedroom. It helps to keep a small profile.
On the plus side there are moments of intense awareness of life around you. The banyan tree in the backyard is the greenest after Japa. The sky is the bluest, the clouds are the whitest. If you are appreciative of the natural world then ISKON is the place for you. Krsna consciousness is the goal. I became conscious of Krsna. It was just way too much for me.
The Maharaj was the fortunate one. He managed to get a donation of a 52 foot Club Footed Ketch. He used it to preach to the tourists by taking them on free sunset cruises from Ala Moana Harbor. This is a rare solid teak cruising yacht built in Hong Kong in the early 60's when things like that were still possible. The Jaladuta could handle crowds of tourists. All were fed a Sunday Feast on board and allowed to swim. Watching the sunset is fabulous in Waikiki waters. We had a full ship on those cruise days. Because it was Sunday we could overload the boat without Coast Guard interference.
We all had to work. I chose the juice factory in downtown Honolulu. I would get up at 3 am jump on the English racer and rush off to work using the empty freeways rather than the deserted streets. It cut my travel time down going this way. One morning, I entered the freeway thinking I had a clear shot. A brand new car was zooming down the highway oblivious to a bike rider. Luckily, he managed to steer clear of me but collided with the curb. No damage done to me but his wheels needed to be realigned. I chose a different route to work from then on.
Kanva got to Hawaii by smuggling himself inside the wheel well of a passenger jet. This guy had been there from the beginning with Prabupad. It is an amazing story of survival. I asked him how cold was it. He smiled 'cold enough to freeze the balls on a brass monkey.'
All this is just the beginning. The strict vegetarian diet is a killer in itself. All the goodness has been processed out. There is absolutely no chance of deviation from this norm as everyone takes food from the same place. Cut up fruit in the morning with oatmeal and altar sweets will take away your stamina quickly reducing you to a mind numbing vegetable in short order. This is a no protein diet except for the milk.
Your health suffers. Frequent colds and fever follow sleeping on the hardwood floors without padding. A devotee averages roughly 4 to 6 hrs. per night, if that much. Sometimes no sleep is what you are left with if there is no place left to lie down. Those days are the worst.
The bathroom is about the sickest place imaginable. No soap is ever stocked or clean towels hung. You are lucky if you even get hot water which is never hot, only lukewarm. Everyone is body aware and completely shy about natural functions. There is only one toilet. The population can go up to twenty living in a space about the size of a small bedroom. It helps to keep a small profile.
On the plus side there are moments of intense awareness of life around you. The banyan tree in the backyard is the greenest after Japa. The sky is the bluest, the clouds are the whitest. If you are appreciative of the natural world then ISKON is the place for you. Krsna consciousness is the goal. I became conscious of Krsna. It was just way too much for me.
The Maharaj was the fortunate one. He managed to get a donation of a 52 foot Club Footed Ketch. He used it to preach to the tourists by taking them on free sunset cruises from Ala Moana Harbor. This is a rare solid teak cruising yacht built in Hong Kong in the early 60's when things like that were still possible. The Jaladuta could handle crowds of tourists. All were fed a Sunday Feast on board and allowed to swim. Watching the sunset is fabulous in Waikiki waters. We had a full ship on those cruise days. Because it was Sunday we could overload the boat without Coast Guard interference.
We captured the meaning of generosity which was so missing in American Society. It was a glorious afternoon when we'd bend on the sails and head towards the setting sun.
The ship was a sedan cruiser .Well cared for by the Maharaj and the sailing crew made up of devotees and pickup sailors. She never gave us a problem. However, one afternoon her transmission broke thus locking her shaft. We had to sail into Ali Wai very carefully.
The ship was a sedan cruiser .Well cared for by the Maharaj and the sailing crew made up of devotees and pickup sailors. She never gave us a problem. However, one afternoon her transmission broke thus locking her shaft. We had to sail into Ali Wai very carefully.
With exemplary coordination we brought her to the finger dock and tied on without so much as touch of the hull. The whole ship cheered at our seamanship. This was one proud moment in history of sailing at Ala Moana.
~ Wednesday, August 07, 2024
I was attending UNO formerly called LSUNO. Ricky S. and I decided to rent an apt in the French Quarter for a respite from living at home. It was the happening place.
This was a tiny apt. with only one room I took over. Frenchy lived in the kitchen/bedroom. Living this way was the best we could do being poor students. We decided to take in paying guests.
I met Cyrstal shortly after. The decision to move her in was made because she had no where to go. She was willing to work. She was my first sex partner. She was the first of 4 Judy's I came to know.
She knew a band called the Blues Image in Miami. She was a groupie for them. I found out later she was seeing Turkish seamen on the side which made me wonder about her. Money is money which is something we all need. She could turn a buck fairly easily by just spreading her legs. Meanwhile, I was eating Campbell's Tomato Soup.
My brother Mike did not like this arrangement. Shortly after her leaving, Duke moved in having been kicked out by the old man for having sex on his bed. Now three occupied an apt made for one.
Ricky smoked a great deal of pot in those days. Roger, fresh from the West Coast music scene, brought Opium and Hash to the apt which made no sense because of the hours I was carrying at the University. In those days, everyone had some dope somewhere. Going to any party meant getting high. This is the cult every school has.
It was impossible to study the prodigious amount of information required to maintain at least, a 2.2 grade point. I fell to a 2.3 and resigned. Chem 2B killed any chance at a degree or scholarship at UNO.
I ate at Buster Holmes' little diner for .25 cents for a plate of red beans and rice and a slice of French bread. This was the best deal in New Orleans. I was skinny getting skinnier. I worked as a waiter at Vaucresson's Cafe Creole. I started to let my hair grow long.
I met Shelia Lewis that Christmas Eve serving her and her brother Mark, a fine Southern dinner. She came to my Apt for sex. She invited me to the West Coast. I started out to meet her in early April. I was traveling with AWOL guy from the Army. He too, did not like the idea of getting shot up in Nam.
The Texas Prairie was cold and windy. We barely survived on the road. We had some extraordinary luck though. It was cold and getting colder. I tried to build a fire but was way too windy. The snow started to accumulate.
I heard the steady whine of a VW approaching at a high rate of speed. I had on white scarf Shelia had given me. It was flapping in the wind. The guy driving saw it. He came to a screeching stop and backed up. We were saved. On top of that, he drove us straight to Sheila's front door. That was the best ride I had ever had. I changed Apts in New Orleans. This is where I found Smokey II. A huge Persian cat trapped in the wall. I rescued her then gave her to Duke to live on Jasmine St. in comfort.
Roger had some of the best guitar licks I had ever heard. His talent was astounding. This was overwhelming to this folk singer. I began trying to fit in to the rock scene buying super slinky strings for my Univox Pro. This was a blues and jazz instrument a gift from my half brother Al.
I aspired to become a performer in the many clubs in New Orleans. All I managed was to write reviews for the street rags and for the rock acts that came to town.
I wrote quite a few songs that I kept in a notebook. Grady in Arkansas never returned my notebook so all those songs, words and music were lost to a common thief with a bad memory.
I was in love with Anne H. She was the best girl I knew. I did not have the faintest clue how to approach her. I found her one night, at Bonaparte's Retreat which is a small bar on Decatur. I was young and foolish. She followed me to The NewJerusalem Cafe across from the French Market. I played a few songs then said good night. I thought she was impressed. Later, she was being pursued by a young buck whom I immediately disliked. I never saw her again socially.
I was selling magazines door to door on Napoleon Ave. and whose door did I knock on? Anne was just as startled as I was. She invited me in and we had a little chat. That sort of ended my pursuit of a mate. She was beautiful in every way. I cried over her for many moons. I finally moved on to greener pastures.
I left for Baton Rouge which actually means Red Stick. The story goes that the French explorers used a red stick on the river Bank to indicate a good camping spot. To young boys it means something entirely different. Frequent masterbation also gives you a red stick. There is lots of that going on all over the world. Eventually the boys grow away from that activity. It usually takes a girl friend and many blow jobs.
To get away from it all, we would take frequent canoe trips down the Bogue Chitta River during our summer vacations. We would get the canoes from Camp Salmon which is a Scout summer camp for the New Orleans Council of Boy Scouts.
Chilantakoba Lodge is where I finally wound up with multiple awards and special recognition in the Order of the Arrow with Brotherhood bars. I was elected Scout of the Year complete with a trophy that is somewhere in Mike's possession in Chappel Hill, Texas. I eventually became an Assistant Scoutmaster. Around this time, John Kennedy was shot in Dallas.
When things go bad, they really go bad. This was a dismal time for everyone. I left the Scouting World and the music group, befuddled and alone. My only solice was the road to nowhere soon.
I had no future since what I planned was becoming a spice merchant specializing in the vanilla bean. This takes capital. I had none. I thought about buying Tahitian Coffee which is a blond kind of coffee high in caffeine. This also failed because the plane ticket was beyond my means. You still need the capital for any such venture. There were no backers who had faith in my skills. I tried other import ideas over the years. It all takes capital. I was not a capitalist.
I thought Costa Rica might be a good one for vanilla and coffee. I spent a great deal of time and money trying to get a leg up in the import business. There is always someone smarter and faster who has gotten there first.
I gave up and went back to the bohemian life style. Surfing was a skill I had. Body surfing became my specialty. This does not pay the rent. You can only be on a surf Safari for so long before something happens to you. I finally went sailing leaving Honolulu for the South Pacific.
I remember visiting this young woman in Idaho who weaves cloth for a living. This was done in the traditional Navajo way. One passes the shuttle by hand then swaps the threads locking down the fabric. Then with a giant comb one beats the threads into a tight pattern. The thing about weaving is you can leave it to go tend the kids and return to the exact moment.
The Golden Bear Air Show was designed to be fun. Legend has it a group of hunters found a bear sitting under a tree reading the Wall Street Journal. They became friends. Soon though, the bear found out about flying and wanted lessons. This was a perspicacious bear with an agile mind and a desire to entertain. He began appearing at Air Shows flying an old Sopwith Camel complete with a silk scarf and motorcycle goggles. He entertained huge crowds in Alaska. This is where I got a hold of him and asked if he could use his story for a radio show at KUGS in Bellingham. The name Google came from the word goggles that the bear wore.
There was an announcement of the Dali Lama making his first appearance in North America in Seattle. I had the idea to tape the presentation for the Radio. I brought all the electronic tools I would need to capture his remarks.
It was an amazing event. I managed a third row seat with all of the Tibetan monks and the Tibetan people surrounding me with their infinite kindness.
The talk began about the Compassionate Buddha. A man stood up in the balcony area. He began shouting political slogans that had no bearing on the talks. The Tibetan girl burst into tears with giant tears leaping from her eyes. They hurried this gentle monk to the safety of the wings of the theatre. After a short delay, the Dali Lama retook the podium and continued his illustration of the compassionate Buddha.
I captured every word. I returned to the station and played the tape on my Saturday time slot. It was the most beautiful of times. I lost the tape during my frequent moves to new housing. I can never seem to hang onto anything that is valuable. I taped other less remarkable people during my tenure at KUGS with no problem.
The show was a fanciful mix. The Childrens Show was an all out Saturday affair that consumed me. Designed on the fly it was a Children's Show to educate kids in a fun way. The Outback Farm Report was a segment that talked about farming and animal husbandry and how a chicken lays an egg (gently). I even brought a Nubian goat recording to the show one weekend to present the facts about what goats do for a farm. The poop is the thing.
The frowns soon turned into smiles when the Golden Bear Air Show started up with a roar of the engine The old Sopwith Camel roaring over the sounds of roosters crowing. It was always educational. Miss Kitty the storyteller was reading from the latest adventure book which was specially chosen for the kids.
The show featured all sorts of sounds from the closing of doors to footfalls in a hallway. Kazoos and penny whistles, as well as the characterized voices made for an introduction to the World of Old Time Radio. I even had guest dolphins appearing with their squeaks and clacks that needed a dolphin translator to appear via telephone. More fun for everyone! All of this was copied by others now. Mimicry is a sort of appreciation.
I developed other shows. A live sound stage was developed that continues today in some form or other in Bellingham. One night, Doug Drake and the Beached Whales played a bizarre set. The sound stage was developed at the my request. The electrical engineer was all too happy to install the connections through the wall so that the radio show could go live in Bellingham. Who knows who heard these broadcasts?
We gave elementary teachers around Bellingham a chance to visit KUGS studios with their class to see how radio is spontaneously invented. A total educational package was developed. It was overlooked by the powers that be. Although the station benefited with improvements to the equipment, I found myself without a career after all that effort. Once you fall out of the saddle...
The station manager offered to distribute the taped shows in Alaska if I'd sign them over to her. By that time, I had a falling out with the Outback people with no chance of reconciliation. I left in a huff of disappointment. I saved myself from the irate administrators who could not realize the monetary benefits for the educational process. Its my way or the highway was what I gathered. This lonesome man was now alone again. On the road again bound for Nowhere Soon.
The station manager offered to distribute the taped shows in Alaska if I'd sign them over to her. By that time, I had a falling out with the Outback people with no chance of reconciliation. I left in a huff of disappointment. I saved myself from the irate administrators who could not realize the monetary benefits for the educational process. Its my way or the highway was what I gathered. This lonesome man was now alone again. On the road again bound for Nowhere Soon.
~ Tuesday, August 06, 2024
Thinking back on life's changing situations, one of the most enduring for me is Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans at the edge of the twelve block square that is the Vieux Carre'. This double wide street is dripping in history. Originating at the very edge of the French Quarter and having its roots at the Mississippi River, there is the slave selling block that is still visible at the old government building. It was the very first place I came with my struggling family to try to make a life in the snarly town of yesteryear.
One hot and sultry night, I was lying awake listening intently to a furious argument taking place nearby. I lifted up on my side to gather what was transpiring. Suddenly, I heard the report of a small caliber gun, possibly a midnight special as the .38 revolver was called in those days. Three distinct shots then silence, is all I remember. Dawn was breaking. Soon, I was off to school at William O. Rogers only to find out later that a mid level drug dealer had been shot dead. Welcome to New Orleans.
Octavia was a friend of mine who used to play with me in the afternoons under the cool of the oaks. Octavia and I would play/act to modify reality in sort of a dance with death. Soon enough, my Mother called me in to have some supper. The black and white of New Orleans was beginning to be understood.
My mother took me one morning, to see the historic Ursaline Convent nearby. I felt the calm coming from the Sisters living at the Sanctuary of God. The concrete walls, embedded with algae and moss, spoke volumes of the timelessness of New Orleans which is the home of the oldest Catholic Church in North America and still called a parish. All of Louisana is divided into Parishes, for that matter.
St Louis Cathedral is not many blocks away. The Garden behind this wonder has the most serene scene in all the world. Jesus is standing there with open arms. Hurricane Betsy blew through town. Many limbs fell into this garden. A great limb fell close to Jesus knocking off a tiny pinky. The rest of him was untouched. Such is the mecy of God.
One day, at Capdau Junior High a girl came running into our Social Studies class a little after 1 in the afternoon. She was visibly shaken and breathless, as she announced the President has been shot in Dallas. At first, there was stunned silence. We began to speculate what this means...... war with the Soviet Union? Who did this deed?
For years, the mystery unfolded in New Orleans with the D.A. Jim Garrison investigation leading to the Oswald contacts in the Big Easy.
My brother was in the Civil Air Patrol with some of those players like David Ferry. This horrible reality was striking close to home.
What you can and can't prove is how our justice system works. It failed with John Kennedy. Jack Ruby did not shoot Oswald because he killed Kennedy. Oswald was the only one who could link the killing to a plot hatched in New Orleans. Ruby was a big player in the strip club scene with many clubs. Similar to Tony Robino who had Guys and Dolls and the first Whiskey a Go Go in the South. All clubs that were exhibiting women.
Oswald most definitely killed officer Tippet. The bullets that killed Kennedy were traced to the Mauser in the Book Depository with Oswald's prints on it. End of story, legally speaking.
That is where the investigation grows cold and the speculative world takes over. Garrison was onto something linking it to New Orleans. It was surrounding the businessman called Clay Shaw. A gay party boy who socialized with Oswald and David Ferry in the nightly forays in the Quarter.
Esplanade Ave was home to John McDonough Senior High near Broadway which is the route that takes the name of Highway 90 bisecting the city. Eventually, it turns into Airline highway which leads to the airport and the fabled Hwy 61. This is only hwy out of New Orleans going north.
On the corner of Broadway and Esplanade stands a K&B drugstore popular with all the beehived girls for some reason. Malcolm Rabeneck or better known as Dr. John was a classmate of mine whom we never met.
All of his friends in the folk group also went to Big John McDonough. At that time there were two types of students. The Frats and the Cats. The frats were upscale. The cats were the greasers who wore the turned up collar, as if cold. In this category were the female charmers who had the beehive hairdo. I was somewhere in the middle of this mess. I could be classed as a Beat with nowhere to go looking for classlessness. Everyday at lunch, the boys and girls in the folk group would meet and buy freshly made po boy sandwiches and sometimes a coke to wash down the crustiness of the French bread. Even a moon pie was not unheard of.
I was visiting Frank and Ellen on their return from their Haight Ashbury expedition. They had an apt. upstairs with a record player. Roger would come over with a load of records to play. One day, he brought the latest Rolling Stones records. These are hard to find and the tunes are classic. Not many know of these tunes. Roger was learning them so he could play them in his budding rock group. Although a superb musician, he was busted for meth and was on probation. You find out all these things long after the fact when things return to normal. I played with Roger a few times but his music was far more advanced than mine. It got to be a teaching session which neither of them enjoyed. I was off to Nowhere Soon. I had been refinishing a blues guitar even painting it red white a blue. On the back, was a figure eight pattern originating from a George Washington figure culminating in the stars. This spoke volumes to my way of thinking. I patterned my way of life in this figure 8. When you really thing about it, marriage tends to follow this rule of eights figure.
Esplanade also held the Hare' Krsna Temple that fed the poor with sweets and vegetarianism. It was a few blocks away but was a significant find for wandering souls. The Temple Room is always a Parkay floor or black and white giant slabs of marble. It was built to last out of the native woods of cypress and hardwoods of Lousiana. The joinery was excellent. You can only spend a few hours or days there before you get restless and move on. It is interesting for the first few times but living with the devotees you must adopt all the encumbrances and dress. This old philosophy of India seems to be based on superstition. Living in the past does not get you to the future.
In New Orleans they celebrate McDonough Day with fanfare and pomp. He was the great benefactor of the schools in this city. On such an occasion I chanced to be in City Hall. I was just looking around. Two men approached me. It was Mayor Duplantier and the Chief of Police with those bars on the sleeve who tried to recruit Gb for the Police Academy. He almost took them seriously and said he would consider it when he graduated. I already knew the lifespan of cops....short.
What a day of flowers and bright sunlight plus a day off from schooling. Not wanting to commit to a career that would have surely shortened my life I smiled and walked on, after shaking their hands, thanking them for the offer. Complaining about the way it was did nothing but make you feel ungrateful. It was a strange time.
I was visiting Frank and Ellen on their return from their Haight Ashbury expedition. They had an apt. upstairs with a record player. Roger would come over with a load of records to play. One day, he brought the latest Rolling Stones records. These are hard to find and the tunes are classic. Not many know of these tunes. Roger was learning them so he could play them in his budding rock group. Although a superb musician, he was busted for meth and was on probation. You find out all these things long after the fact when things return to normal. I played with Roger a few times but his music was far more advanced than mine. It got to be a teaching session which neither of them enjoyed. I was off to Nowhere Soon. I had been refinishing a blues guitar even painting it red white a blue. On the back, was a figure eight pattern originating from a George Washington figure culminating in the stars. This spoke volumes to my way of thinking. I patterned my way of life in this figure 8. When you really thing about it, marriage tends to follow this rule of eights figure.
Esplanade also held the Hare' Krsna Temple that fed the poor with sweets and vegetarianism. It was a few blocks away but was a significant find for wandering souls. The Temple Room is always a Parkay floor or black and white giant slabs of marble. It was built to last out of the native woods of cypress and hardwoods of Lousiana. The joinery was excellent. You can only spend a few hours or days there before you get restless and move on. It is interesting for the first few times but living with the devotees you must adopt all the encumbrances and dress. This old philosophy of India seems to be based on superstition. Living in the past does not get you to the future.
In New Orleans they celebrate McDonough Day with fanfare and pomp. He was the great benefactor of the schools in this city. On such an occasion I chanced to be in City Hall. I was just looking around. Two men approached me. It was Mayor Duplantier and the Chief of Police with those bars on the sleeve who tried to recruit Gb for the Police Academy. He almost took them seriously and said he would consider it when he graduated. I already knew the lifespan of cops....short.
What a day of flowers and bright sunlight plus a day off from schooling. Not wanting to commit to a career that would have surely shortened my life I smiled and walked on, after shaking their hands, thanking them for the offer. Complaining about the way it was did nothing but make you feel ungrateful. It was a strange time.
Distinctly aware of the Vietnam War raging, we knew we were up for the draft soon. This was the reality on Esplanade Avenue. Many went few came back.
Our Grandmother whom we called Mamare because of the French/German/Cajun heritage had a duplex on South Claiborne Ave. We would go over and pick the canning pears that Ercie would boil down into a thick syrup. We would spend all day canning pears that propelled us through those long wintery days. Only on Sunday would my Mother retrieve a quart jar of pear preserves to brighten a dull Sunday morning.
We also had a Great Grandmother we called Fat Mamare who held these family gatherings we would attend. Many of the distant relatives would show up mostly for the free feed the ladies would prepare. This was a well known family near one of the oldest supermarkets in town called the Circle Market still going strong. It is hard to remember the exact locations of these landmarks.
Spumoni Ice Cream was what I was after. Everytime I go back, I buy a Mufalotta Sandwich and Spumoni ice cream in remembrance of my parents. The joys of New Orleans were fleeting moments of pleasure.
Mardi Gras was always interesting. After nightfall, the serious drinkers take over Bourbon St. The cops would drive down the street answering a call with both doors open braced with a leg. The people too slow to react were summarily thumped with the door which was a clear sign to make way for the emergency vehicle. Many times we would come across women on balconys displaying their boobs to the crowd of onlookers below. The sea of blue eyes was startling to this child of the 60's. These guys would hurl strings of beads to the women.
Another time I saw a male mount a bent over female and dry hump her in an attempt to gain the crowds approval. My dad would hoist me up on a street light in order to see the crowds and parades that continually pass by on Canal St.
The memories of being on the balcony that gave me a view of the many fights that would break out. A huge ring around the fighters would open up. This birds eye view was interesting until the cops showed up with billy clubs. Opening a few heads brought forth streams of blood and a quick trip to the paddy wagon parked close by.
As the night wore on, the street filled with litter that now became a game to kick through. Such is the night life of Mardi Gras in the City that Care Forgot.
George McGovern lll aka Trip was another one of those guys fresh from the Viet Nam war. He is the nephew of the Senator out there in North Dakota. He was driving an APC when it was hit with a rocket propelled grenade. They put a metal plate in his head and was discharged to live out his earthly days visiting New Orleans.
There is a huge VA complex in the City. He became a movement guy advocating for peace as many young did in that era. His story I recorded in the NOLA Express. I was still in school and working on the side at restaurants in the French Quarter.
I also had a job writing for a music rag called In Your Ear. I moved into an apartment right at the edge of the French Quarter. I had a lot going on then. I was rebuilding an electric guitar that was a classic with the rosewood fret board worn down in all the right places for a blues player like me. I was listening to the new album by CCR. I painted this guitar in the color of the flag by adding the blues and reds while the lacquer was setting. By using a stylus one is able to make swirls and symbols that make the artist very happy. The blue body held images of the founding father staring into the heavens seeking guidance from God. The neck was painted a thin red moving into a semi-white for the head. She was beautiful. I planned a hammered silver pick guard and humbucken pickups. Underneath the volume knobs were going to be gold stars. Suddenly, things changed. The war ended. I was forced to move back to Jasmine St. with the folks. The guitar sat in the closet in a gunny sack for a long time. I finally left for the West Coast. Leaving that part of me in the dusty corners of my mind.
I was a journaIist. The NOLA Express was an up and coming street rag that I wrote for. The editors enjoyed my creativity and published everything I came up with. I would interview visitors to the City. Fritzhugh was a veteran of Viet Nam that I sat down with and recorded his story. He was also with the IRA in Ireland. He knew Bernadette Devlin personally. He had been seriously wounded in Viet Nam and barely walked with the help of leg braces. He is serving a life sentence in Leavenworth for arms smuggling to northern Ireland. He traveled with his entourage of misfits and unlucky people.
I also had a job writing for a music rag called In Your Ear. I moved into an apartment right at the edge of the French Quarter. I had a lot going on then. I was rebuilding an electric guitar that was a classic with the rosewood fret board worn down in all the right places for a blues player like me. I was listening to the new album by CCR. I painted this guitar in the color of the flag by adding the blues and reds while the lacquer was setting. By using a stylus one is able to make swirls and symbols that make the artist very happy. The blue body held images of the founding father staring into the heavens seeking guidance from God. The neck was painted a thin red moving into a semi-white for the head. She was beautiful. I planned a hammered silver pick guard and humbucken pickups. Underneath the volume knobs were going to be gold stars. Suddenly, things changed. The war ended. I was forced to move back to Jasmine St. with the folks. The guitar sat in the closet in a gunny sack for a long time. I finally left for the West Coast. Leaving that part of me in the dusty corners of my mind.
I was a journaIist. The NOLA Express was an up and coming street rag that I wrote for. The editors enjoyed my creativity and published everything I came up with. I would interview visitors to the City. Fritzhugh was a veteran of Viet Nam that I sat down with and recorded his story. He was also with the IRA in Ireland. He knew Bernadette Devlin personally. He had been seriously wounded in Viet Nam and barely walked with the help of leg braces. He is serving a life sentence in Leavenworth for arms smuggling to northern Ireland. He traveled with his entourage of misfits and unlucky people.
I wrote many tunes while living on Esplanade. None of them survived. I recalled many of them but only partial memories remained that only hint at the content of these special tunes written in moments of passion and reflection. I gave up the lifestyle and the music industry.
The ASCAP boys were hunting for new talent. These are mafioso types who have little respect for musicians and their dedication to the art form. I always felt I was just one step ahead of these people. If you sign, you're done. You will never be successful without their permission. For each quarter dropped in a jukebox a percentage goes to these guys.
So what is success? Surely not money. Surely not adoration. Success is measured by how many people you made happy with music. The most important is you. Make yourself happy first. I always had my harmonica in my pocket. I always blew an A harp. This key does not take your breath away. In other words it is the easier key to use. Attainment was the goal. Liberation was found on the other side.
One night, I was at Jackson Square which is close to the river and the train tracks that were the only route north to Chicago during the Civil War. Many a freed slave escaped the oppressive South by riding the rails. I tried that one year but gave up because it was so hard and uncomfortable on the body.
One night, I was at Jackson Square which is close to the river and the train tracks that were the only route north to Chicago during the Civil War. Many a freed slave escaped the oppressive South by riding the rails. I tried that one year but gave up because it was so hard and uncomfortable on the body.
So there I was, standing at the old war memorial arch when this black man walks by me with no shoes and raggedy clothes. It is late and cold for this is winter in the South. I say to him where are your shoes? He replied, 'I don't gots none.' He then tells me his story of leaving Mississippi that night because of troubles with white folk. I sized him up. I just bought a used pair of boots that were too big for me. I immediately took them off and handed them to him. He put them on . It was a perfect fit. His eyes lit up . Now he could cake walk into town and find his fortune with new boots. I felt so good and happily walked home barefoot.
I was writing for the NOLA Express with some of the most innovative writers of the time. There was so much happening in the quarter then. Kumi Maitriya was pioneering morning glory seeds as a natural form of LSD.
I was writing for the NOLA Express with some of the most innovative writers of the time. There was so much happening in the quarter then. Kumi Maitriya was pioneering morning glory seeds as a natural form of LSD.
One day I walked into the newspaper headquarters right there on Bourbon St. a few blocks away from the strip clubs and the constant crowds.
Jim was one of the editors of the paper. He had a family with two small children. He was barefoot most of the time. He got busted for LSD. I went to his trial as he tried to get the judge to agree to allow LSD as a sacrament for the OEA people who followed Kumi Maitriya. He went to prison for a long time as the judge and jury were having none of it. That decision condemned many people to a hard life of running and hiding from the police. I left New Orleans shortly after that. Nothing to see here.... move along.
Elysian Fields Ave terminated at Lake Pontchartrain. UNO was located at the old training field which was a landing strip in those early days. The best thing on campus was the brand new, huge library called the Huey P. Long. I moved to an apt on Esplanade which faced a small overgrown garden. That is where Frank and Ellen lived in one of those high ceiling apartments nearby. Funny how you want to travel down the same road as your friends. It was charming though. I had plans to be a writer-musician-artist all rolled in one since that was the only thing happening. This was put on hold as the harsh reality of supporting yourself until you became prominent overtook me. The only work in the city was being a waiter at one of the many restaurants in the Quarter. I chose Vaucressons' Creole Restaurant. You work for tips and a hot supper made by some of the finest creole cooks ever discovered.
Elysian Fields Ave terminated at Lake Pontchartrain. UNO was located at the old training field which was a landing strip in those early days. The best thing on campus was the brand new, huge library called the Huey P. Long. I moved to an apt on Esplanade which faced a small overgrown garden. That is where Frank and Ellen lived in one of those high ceiling apartments nearby. Funny how you want to travel down the same road as your friends. It was charming though. I had plans to be a writer-musician-artist all rolled in one since that was the only thing happening. This was put on hold as the harsh reality of supporting yourself until you became prominent overtook me. The only work in the city was being a waiter at one of the many restaurants in the Quarter. I chose Vaucressons' Creole Restaurant. You work for tips and a hot supper made by some of the finest creole cooks ever discovered.
Alice May Victor was singing 'Precious Lord' the night l met her at the upright piano there. A Gospel singer of poor origin she sang with such conviction. This is where I met Shelia one Christmas Eve. Shelia was a New York model who made a lot of money being redheaded and Jewish. Suddenly they were alone in his small apt with tie dye sheets for wall coverings. I made plans to travel to LA in the spring and stay through summer just to see her again. Her love was so warm. Her eyes were a swarthy dark which contrasted with her red hair. Red hair is a genetic sign of being well bred. Her breasts were full and firm. Her body reminded me of a Grecian Urn so perfect and enchanting as we explored each other that night. She was perfect in every way and available.
The next morning I escorted her to Airline highway where her brother Mark awaited her arrival. She gave me some personal items. I gave her some of my finest memories ever. I knew I'd be travelling to LA to see this fabulous woman again. She gave me a rabbit fur hat that I wore for a long time.
One of the opportunities for musical success was when I played with Hank Halley and the Comets playing electric Delta Blues in a three piece combo. Some could play better like The Yellowed Pages who were able to command gigs around the city. Quint went on to develop the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival from his position as lead singer for this group. He also lived on Esplanade. I was writing for the NOLA Express and In Your Ear music rag for the Warehouse for free concert tickets. The Warehouse brought live rock and roll to the New Orleans nightlife. Steppenwolf and Elton John were part of the many groups that I reviewed in these papers. I always got a spot in front of the stage so I could write under the stage lights. You write what you see.
I was writing for the NOLA Express as well as In Your Ear publication which was a musical review for A Warehouse. I was writing about what I knew. The music of New Orleans was the life blood of the Crescent City. The office was in a courtyard on Bourbon St. behind a wooden gate with a knothole at eye level.
I was writing for the NOLA Express as well as In Your Ear publication which was a musical review for A Warehouse. I was writing about what I knew. The music of New Orleans was the life blood of the Crescent City. The office was in a courtyard on Bourbon St. behind a wooden gate with a knothole at eye level.
I found a poster of some old boy. I mounted the poster with his eye lining up perfectly. It was a spy hole to see who was knocking at this establishment. We were right next door to a Haitian voodoo shop which included the ceremony of relieving chickens of their heads. The blood was collected for further rituals involving all sorts of nefarious beliefs. To each his own was our philosophy.
I finally had the right apt. on Esplanade. It had a small garden. I could hear the foghorns on the river at night. I was living the life listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival immersed in my school and work at the paper. Life was good at that moment. The Vietnam War was winding down and it seemed I had escaped the worst of those times. Again, things were about to change for me and not in a good way.
One night in the rowdy French Quarter I met another girl. Her name is Crystal. This classic blond wanted to be with me badly. Ricky and I had found an apartment on Beinville close to work on one of the side streets in the Quarter. We invited Crystal to live with us. She made the best macaroni and cheese tuna casseroles ever. She would disappear into the night to table top dance for the Turkish seaman who frequented the port of New Orleans. This was the golden age of strippers on Bourbon St.
I finally had the right apt. on Esplanade. It had a small garden. I could hear the foghorns on the river at night. I was living the life listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival immersed in my school and work at the paper. Life was good at that moment. The Vietnam War was winding down and it seemed I had escaped the worst of those times. Again, things were about to change for me and not in a good way.
One night in the rowdy French Quarter I met another girl. Her name is Crystal. This classic blond wanted to be with me badly. Ricky and I had found an apartment on Beinville close to work on one of the side streets in the Quarter. We invited Crystal to live with us. She made the best macaroni and cheese tuna casseroles ever. She would disappear into the night to table top dance for the Turkish seaman who frequented the port of New Orleans. This was the golden age of strippers on Bourbon St.
She was making the best of her talent in the only way she knew. It was never enough. She used to hang with the Blues Image in Miami. She had been on a mission to find the Great Golden One. She found and lost him. The very last time I saw Crystal was in Austin Texas on my way to hook up with Shelia again. My heart was now with this red head. Cyrstal looked OK but I could tell she is now in with a rough bunch who would use her and throw her to the wolves. I said goodbye a little confused by all of this.
I had to focus on California now. The trip was long and difficult. I finally got to Arizona and caught a ride in a souped up van. We discussed our options for crossing the desert. We spent the day resting and preparing for the night. The desert heats up to way over 100 degrees during the day so travelling by starlight made sense. This ragtag bunch of hippie misfits managed to cross the desert without so much as a piss stop. We were proud of our accomplishment.
The slave exchange was a building at the very foot of Esplanade near the Great River. Slaves were bought and sold for the upriver plantations. The selling block is still there and causes shivers to run down the spine. The suffering and separation still haunt the spot. Glad those days have passed.
New Jerusalem was a bar near the French Market where Gb played his music.
The slave exchange was a building at the very foot of Esplanade near the Great River. Slaves were bought and sold for the upriver plantations. The selling block is still there and causes shivers to run down the spine. The suffering and separation still haunt the spot. Glad those days have passed.
New Jerusalem was a bar near the French Market where Gb played his music.
Sometimes Anne would come to see me and listen to my songs. Anne was the love of my life. Things change and people continue to be people. There never will be another like Anne. That soft, natural beauty of Southern gals will always haunt the Golden One.
Saturday is the Flea Market in the parking lot of the French Market where farmers brought their produce for decades. Neffer is signing up customers for sandals which will be made during their stay in New Orleans. Even now, he is carrying his kit for the measurements. You can be assured of a perfect fit at a negotiable price.
Gb used to buy dried figs packed in that Greek style of passing a supple stick though them and bending them into a circle. The open air market is filled with the foods of the world and the smells of New Orleans.
Gb used to buy dried figs packed in that Greek style of passing a supple stick though them and bending them into a circle. The open air market is filled with the foods of the world and the smells of New Orleans.
When you think about it, New Orleans is one of the busiest ports in the nation next to New York. It gets the best of the best the world has to offer. Many times I would find myself at the Riverwalk watching the ships come in. A Chinese freighter caught fire after hitting a fuel barge. Things got out of hand quickly. The ship drifted into the bridge supports threatening a lifeline to the City. I witnessed many Chinese jumping for their lives from the fantail of the ship. Some didn't make it.
Esplanade held many bars like Ruby Tuesday, Your Fathers Moustache, Port O' Call and the seedier types of drinking establishments for the blacks. This is where we found Babe Stovall one night playing his Blues we so admired. He was just back from Newport, California which is where he would go via freight train to play his music for the biker crowd there. He showed us a few things on the guitar which Frank picked up quickly. Joe actually took us there since we were under age at that time. A father's devotion to his son is extraordinary.
We had other musician friends by now living on Esplanade. Roger was an excellent guitarist but got in trouble with drugs on the West Coast. He and his buddies got addicted to crank which means losing your teeth
Esplanade held many bars like Ruby Tuesday, Your Fathers Moustache, Port O' Call and the seedier types of drinking establishments for the blacks. This is where we found Babe Stovall one night playing his Blues we so admired. He was just back from Newport, California which is where he would go via freight train to play his music for the biker crowd there. He showed us a few things on the guitar which Frank picked up quickly. Joe actually took us there since we were under age at that time. A father's devotion to his son is extraordinary.
We had other musician friends by now living on Esplanade. Roger was an excellent guitarist but got in trouble with drugs on the West Coast. He and his buddies got addicted to crank which means losing your teeth
before you are 40. Nonetheless, he introduced us to the Rolling Stones and others like John Mayhall and Eric Clapton.
Shakey was another drug addict not long for this world. He had the shakes and the only cure was another fix of heroin. He carried his works in a tiny box psychedelically decorated. There was a picture of the Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club of which he was a lifetime member. I did not hang much with these guys since I was Mr Clean to them. Too many scams ruled the lives of these drug addicted musicians. New Orleans is full of them.
One night when I was working for the NOLA Express I met Fritz. Fritzhugh was another VNW vet who had been severely wounded, crippling him. He walks with braces. Gb did an interview of him and found out about his association with IRA and Bernadette Devlin. As he recorded his words he knew instantly this guy was a killer of innocent people.
One night when I was working for the NOLA Express I met Fritz. Fritzhugh was another VNW vet who had been severely wounded, crippling him. He walks with braces. Gb did an interview of him and found out about his association with IRA and Bernadette Devlin. As he recorded his words he knew instantly this guy was a killer of innocent people.
BNot long after that we heard Caroline Kennedy was almost killed by a bomb while she was in the United Kingdom. These coincidences were confounding. I heard Fritz was arrested for interstate transport of weapons serving life in Leavenworth.
Then it was Sunday. The free music was happening on the levee of the Mississippi at Audubon Park. Bands would meet and have free concerts until the police came to shut it down. A man who goes by the name of Crazy Horse organized these weekend festivals. After his violent arrest we decided it was all too much for New Orleans. Festivals for people became a hailing for us to gather spontaneously under the Ecological Flag. We planned for other great gatherings to be held at UNO.
Then it was Sunday. The free music was happening on the levee of the Mississippi at Audubon Park. Bands would meet and have free concerts until the police came to shut it down. A man who goes by the name of Crazy Horse organized these weekend festivals. After his violent arrest we decided it was all too much for New Orleans. Festivals for people became a hailing for us to gather spontaneously under the Ecological Flag. We planned for other great gatherings to be held at UNO.
One day, the Further Bus rolled in with Wavy Gravy leading the famous troupe. Crystal traveled to these sessions in City Park trying to refocus the ultimate energy for the good of mankind, cosmologically speaking When recurring thoughts of saving the environment collided with reality of life on earth. Something had to give. Peace freaks we were then and peace freaks at heart now. Even so, we had little control over what transpired. One woman held up a sign saying 'no more oil spills. This was the early 70's. The Further bus showed up one Sunday in City Park at one of these rally's. There he was. Wavy Gravy himself dancing in a jesters hat with the tiny bell at its peak. These times were absolutely no fun at all in spite of what you were told.
Another graduate of Big John McDonough was Carl who was a friend of Gb until the big fight in Audubon Park. Carl would use his BSA to go across Lake Pontchartrain to the Benedictine Abbey with Gb on the back. Those times were most memorable. He had many friends at the Abbey who were Catholic monks from the Notre Dame Seminary in uptown New Orleans. He had been the rare councilor at the K.C, Youth Camp that the Benedictine Monks ran. He was invited to teach swimming to the young campers. How this all happened is another amazing story for another time.
Gb met George McGovern III who had a plate installed in his head. He went by the moniker of Trip which somehow seemed appropriate. This is a wounded veteran now free to travel around getting involved with people who want to change the way it is and was.
There are so many others who I played music with.back in those days. Alan was a bass player extraordinaire' and also a graduate of UNO. His hobby included jumping out of perfectly good airplanes to land in the abundant mushroom fields of the countryside. He used me in a video along with the Eisenstadt girl who was simply too beautiful for words. Hot pants were all the rage. It was tough being around such beautiful untouchable women. All I got was extremely uncomfortable with too much of nothing. Alan handed Gb a script to read which he did without a thought to consequences. It was used in many exposes' in New Orleans. At this point, Gb had three or four music projects underway. The first group was named King Cotton which is the name of a brand of sausages. The second one was the Jefferson Starfish which is a parody band, and Jefferson Blues Band as well as appearing alone many times at the Hovel which was a showcase for talent Friday night at the Flambeau Room in the Student Union of UNO.
Gb auditioned for the Loyola School of Music anticipating success. Bach's Minuet is simple, He did not have enough good luck to be accepted for a scholarship. Skill was there but the depth of music was not yet. He was getting exhausted again trying to do too much with too little. Something finally broke in him. These days, he was living on Jasmine St in Gentilly with his parents. Listening to Led Zep and other powerful groups all in the name of journalism. He heard that Sea Saint Studios was opening soon just few blocks away. Paul McCartney had invested in the music scene in New Orleans. Gb visited the studios once but never was invited to make a fancy record. It takes big money to make a record. He had but little. He designed many a record depicting a lady of the evening on a day sofa calling it 'Shady Lady' which included many original songs and music. It never was enough. His nervous system was in disrepair.
It always puzzled Gb how Mac Rebennack (Dr. John) got the money to make records. Friends in low places he realized. Luck never touched Gb again after he rejected the Golden Spiral that was descending upon him for reasons he can't express. His tooth hurt from the loud music which was distracting enough. Maybe it was the running lost in the halls of karma that made him disheveled or the idiotic questions he was asked at the last moment. 'How much do you know?' That is not a fair question. Puzzled and exasperated he got up to leave the stage and find his own way home. No help here. The New Orleans Pop Festival was not his best showing.
There was a group of sandal makers in the 1200 block of Royal St. This footwear had everything a man could want in a sandal. Using old tires for the tread base then building a toe strap and heel strap along with a stacked leather arch made these sandals something to brag about. Custom made and fitting perfectly these shoes were popular in the French Quarter for proper attire. Bill Powell was from England. Along with Ravi and Neffer they opened a sandal shop/bookstore at this location. For many years it functioned until the day came when Powell was deported in a move by the government to silence dissent. They said they found marijuana under his fingernail crossing from Mexico. OK sure... but Bill was too smart about borders. The girls loved him like no other and held a huge party at his departure. The shop fell to Ravi who converted it to a health food store unheard of in those days in New Orleans.
Kumi Maitreya was the incarnation of Madame Blavatsky who appeared in New Orleans to lead the way through life's darkness. We were all taken in by her teachings simply because LSD in morning glory seeds became the sacrament of this Bodhisattva movement. A Bodhi Sattva postpones his own enlightenment until everyone is offered liberation. This is an impossible task and a good excuse to get high.
O E A
All of this transpired rapidly in the heyday of desires. The boutiques and clothing shops located in the French Quarter were such an attraction for the tragically hip and restless. Gb was intent on forming a guild of craftsmen that specializes in building things of ultimate utility like guitars and violins. sandals and moccasins for the unshod. Bead stringers, lamp makers and beer craftsmen were all welcome to join. No one came forward. Soon enough, those days passed by. The harsh reality of New Orleans had a death grip on his soul. He soon left again for the open roads of summer.
In a sudden change in heart he abandoned New Orleans simply to get away from the grinding poverty that was following him that and the HoJo sniper. The music was nice but did not feed the body. One Spring he traveled to a family reunion in 1988. It was the first time he had been home in years. Things had changed since his younger days. Cafe Du Monde had expanded to the Riverfront Shopping Center. New Orleans derived music was playing over the muzak system that had real fidelity to it. The banquet in honor of our parents was paid for by his older brother. This would be the last of the events in New Orleans because of changing circumstances and obligations in other realms.
On every occasion upon or returning to the Big Easy he would ask to be let off at Jackson Square which figured heavily in his life. Not only was it an artistic haven where only the very best would produce portraiture of emergent quality. The haunting memories, both shared and private, that happened in this amazing environ are truly remarkable. He always seemed to travel with two black cases, sometimes with a guitar over his shoulder. Even this instrument was handmade in Mexico just for him with a waxed canvas case and a leather strap. He left it with Shelia in LA. It was promptly stolen and pawned for dope money by one of her many dealers.
One night after a session at work he met a shoeless black man who just arrived by freight train from the Mississippi countryside. Gb was wearing side zip boots that were nearly worn through. He took them off and handed them to this distraught arrival. This was at the very Arch de Triomphe commemorating the War of 1812 and other wars near the Jackson Brewery. He hobbled back to the apartment barefooted in a state of joy.
On other occasions, Jackson Square was the scene of spontaneous festivities like the Maypole Festival. This is the earliest festival of free spirit in the world. It is still honored in many cultures from the Druids on down to modern day communism. Or the popular music by the buskers which takes place today in the now cordoned off streets of the Vieux Carre. You can hear Tuba Skinny and Smokin' Time Jazz Club even today.
After midnight many young people came to the Square to conclude their night on the town and gain some perspective. It is not mine to say what they had done with the evening. Chris D. and his entourage of beautiful girls appeared there one spring night. Chris was one of the early presidents of the Ecology Club. This group initiated the now popular music festival that happens every year at the former Camp Leroy Johnson now called East Campus. This festival attracts nearly 500,000 people for name acts in the Spring coinciding with the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. Gb worked on both of these Festivals at one time or another.
You finally come to an understanding about the bars in New Orleans. This is were most groups get their start in the entertainment industry. I walked into an uptown bar and sat at the bar nursing a beer and planning my next move. In walks this guy with shoulder length hair sorta permed. He had the typical wife beater T shirt and pleated slacks. It was the Italian shoes that he was scraping the oyster shells off that let me know he was one of those wise guys who run New Orleans from the shadows. Somehow or other, I was sitting next to a guy who probably kills for the Marcello mafia that was New Orleans in the 60's. Unless you are in the know you won't see the bakery named Gambino. Now Gambino is an New York crime family name from the thirties. They migrated to New Orleans along with Carlos Marcello from Sicily. There are so many theories about the Kennedy assassination. The one I know to be true is the Marcello story of Bobby Kennedy making it hard on the cosa nostra as Attorney General. These wise guys have a lot of interest in keeping the Feds out of their business. It only took a phone call to organize a presidential assassination in public to tame the government. Remember Bobby was killed the next year along with Martin. You can't say coincidence anymore. This is the reason I hardly ever go to New Orleans anymore. The Big Easy makes me extremely nervous even to this day. Oswald did the shooting along with a bunch of other guys. They never found the bullets that missed....Interesting...
Louisiana State University of New Orleans aka the University of New Orleans was the only University available to me. I had no scholarship or any genuine educational skills. It was all hard. It took all my time. Yet I found time to hear free lectures that set my course for life. I wandered into a afternoon lecture by an FBI agent who shared stories about what he did and who he captured. One of these stories was about this young Italian who associated with the Cosa Nostra of New Orleans. This man had an unruly daughter. The way this guy handled unruly behavior was to lock the child in a dog cage for weeks on end without baths or proper nutrition. When the agent finally found her she was dehydrated and very tired of dog food. She could not stand upright for a long time.
I was constantly fascinated by the various people who came to visit the French Quarter. One night I was sitting in the garden patio of a restaurant in the Vieux Carre' when a long haired traveler sits down at my table and pulls out a small leather sack. He then empties the sack into my hand. My eyes locked on to what I was now holding. A variety of precious stones now decorated my once barren hand consisting of emeralds from Afghanistan, fire opals from Australia and a variety of rubies from India.
These stones were easily worth many thousands of dollars. He asked me to examine them which I was certainly glad to do and make a recommendation about where to sell them in New Orleans as if I knew. I knew many silver smiths who would be interested in these stones. I said you must have an idea of how much these stones are worth, don't you? He smiled a weak smile and said I can always go back and bring more here. I told him about the little guild of silversmiths and he said he would look for them the next day. A man with wealth like that must know that robbery is always a possibility. I am glad he sought me out. People knew of me and how reliable I was. That never makes you rich though.
Fitzhugh was an Irishman who served inViet Nam. He came back all shot up with leg braces and a very bad attitude. He also knew first hand, Bernadette Devlin of the Irish Republican Army during those mean of the war between the Catholics and Protestants taking place in Northern Ireland. I was writing for the NOLA Express and saw a good story in this guy so I arranged a few meetings to do a through interview.
Fritz as he liked to be called, was a man with soldier's blood coursing through his veins. He took a job casting those little lead soldiers that are meticulously painted by hand. These are sold in specialty hobby shops throughout the city. Each well done piece could bring as much as $50 for just one tiny soldier of the Napoleonic wars. Fritz had a whole army of these pieces. After spending a few days in interview, I was drawing a clearer picture of the anger he was capable of as his talk was always about guns and smuggling to the IRA. I decided to cut my losses and abandon the story. Later that year, I heard he was busted for running guns across state lines and was doing a life sentence in Leavenworth. End of story for a killer like him. You meet all kinds in the Vieux Carre' of New Orleans. Next stop nowhere soon.
There was a bar on Decatur St called New Jerusalem. Right across from the French Market on the corner where they hold flea markets on Sunday. I'd haul my guitar there and play to anyone. One night Anne was there when I walked in. I asked her to listen to my songs and style. I was in love with this beauty. I pursued her for many years, never screwing up the courage to get frisky. One night I found her with another man. It broke my heart to see her anymore. Such is life for the poor on the wrong side of town.
Another graduate of Big John McDonough was Carl who was a friend of Gb until the big fight in Audubon Park. Carl would use his BSA to go across Lake Pontchartrain to the Benedictine Abbey with Gb on the back. Those times were most memorable. He had many friends at the Abbey who were Catholic monks from the Notre Dame Seminary in uptown New Orleans. He had been the rare councilor at the K.C, Youth Camp that the Benedictine Monks ran. He was invited to teach swimming to the young campers. How this all happened is another amazing story for another time.
Gb met George McGovern III who had a plate installed in his head. He went by the moniker of Trip which somehow seemed appropriate. This is a wounded veteran now free to travel around getting involved with people who want to change the way it is and was.
There are so many others who I played music with.back in those days. Alan was a bass player extraordinaire' and also a graduate of UNO. His hobby included jumping out of perfectly good airplanes to land in the abundant mushroom fields of the countryside. He used me in a video along with the Eisenstadt girl who was simply too beautiful for words. Hot pants were all the rage. It was tough being around such beautiful untouchable women. All I got was extremely uncomfortable with too much of nothing. Alan handed Gb a script to read which he did without a thought to consequences. It was used in many exposes' in New Orleans. At this point, Gb had three or four music projects underway. The first group was named King Cotton which is the name of a brand of sausages. The second one was the Jefferson Starfish which is a parody band, and Jefferson Blues Band as well as appearing alone many times at the Hovel which was a showcase for talent Friday night at the Flambeau Room in the Student Union of UNO.
Gb auditioned for the Loyola School of Music anticipating success. Bach's Minuet is simple, He did not have enough good luck to be accepted for a scholarship. Skill was there but the depth of music was not yet. He was getting exhausted again trying to do too much with too little. Something finally broke in him. These days, he was living on Jasmine St in Gentilly with his parents. Listening to Led Zep and other powerful groups all in the name of journalism. He heard that Sea Saint Studios was opening soon just few blocks away. Paul McCartney had invested in the music scene in New Orleans. Gb visited the studios once but never was invited to make a fancy record. It takes big money to make a record. He had but little. He designed many a record depicting a lady of the evening on a day sofa calling it 'Shady Lady' which included many original songs and music. It never was enough. His nervous system was in disrepair.
It always puzzled Gb how Mac Rebennack (Dr. John) got the money to make records. Friends in low places he realized. Luck never touched Gb again after he rejected the Golden Spiral that was descending upon him for reasons he can't express. His tooth hurt from the loud music which was distracting enough. Maybe it was the running lost in the halls of karma that made him disheveled or the idiotic questions he was asked at the last moment. 'How much do you know?' That is not a fair question. Puzzled and exasperated he got up to leave the stage and find his own way home. No help here. The New Orleans Pop Festival was not his best showing.
There was a group of sandal makers in the 1200 block of Royal St. This footwear had everything a man could want in a sandal. Using old tires for the tread base then building a toe strap and heel strap along with a stacked leather arch made these sandals something to brag about. Custom made and fitting perfectly these shoes were popular in the French Quarter for proper attire. Bill Powell was from England. Along with Ravi and Neffer they opened a sandal shop/bookstore at this location. For many years it functioned until the day came when Powell was deported in a move by the government to silence dissent. They said they found marijuana under his fingernail crossing from Mexico. OK sure... but Bill was too smart about borders. The girls loved him like no other and held a huge party at his departure. The shop fell to Ravi who converted it to a health food store unheard of in those days in New Orleans.
Kumi Maitreya was the incarnation of Madame Blavatsky who appeared in New Orleans to lead the way through life's darkness. We were all taken in by her teachings simply because LSD in morning glory seeds became the sacrament of this Bodhisattva movement. A Bodhi Sattva postpones his own enlightenment until everyone is offered liberation. This is an impossible task and a good excuse to get high.
O E A
All of this transpired rapidly in the heyday of desires. The boutiques and clothing shops located in the French Quarter were such an attraction for the tragically hip and restless. Gb was intent on forming a guild of craftsmen that specializes in building things of ultimate utility like guitars and violins. sandals and moccasins for the unshod. Bead stringers, lamp makers and beer craftsmen were all welcome to join. No one came forward. Soon enough, those days passed by. The harsh reality of New Orleans had a death grip on his soul. He soon left again for the open roads of summer.
In a sudden change in heart he abandoned New Orleans simply to get away from the grinding poverty that was following him that and the HoJo sniper. The music was nice but did not feed the body. One Spring he traveled to a family reunion in 1988. It was the first time he had been home in years. Things had changed since his younger days. Cafe Du Monde had expanded to the Riverfront Shopping Center. New Orleans derived music was playing over the muzak system that had real fidelity to it. The banquet in honor of our parents was paid for by his older brother. This would be the last of the events in New Orleans because of changing circumstances and obligations in other realms.
On every occasion upon or returning to the Big Easy he would ask to be let off at Jackson Square which figured heavily in his life. Not only was it an artistic haven where only the very best would produce portraiture of emergent quality. The haunting memories, both shared and private, that happened in this amazing environ are truly remarkable. He always seemed to travel with two black cases, sometimes with a guitar over his shoulder. Even this instrument was handmade in Mexico just for him with a waxed canvas case and a leather strap. He left it with Shelia in LA. It was promptly stolen and pawned for dope money by one of her many dealers.
One night after a session at work he met a shoeless black man who just arrived by freight train from the Mississippi countryside. Gb was wearing side zip boots that were nearly worn through. He took them off and handed them to this distraught arrival. This was at the very Arch de Triomphe commemorating the War of 1812 and other wars near the Jackson Brewery. He hobbled back to the apartment barefooted in a state of joy.
On other occasions, Jackson Square was the scene of spontaneous festivities like the Maypole Festival. This is the earliest festival of free spirit in the world. It is still honored in many cultures from the Druids on down to modern day communism. Or the popular music by the buskers which takes place today in the now cordoned off streets of the Vieux Carre. You can hear Tuba Skinny and Smokin' Time Jazz Club even today.
After midnight many young people came to the Square to conclude their night on the town and gain some perspective. It is not mine to say what they had done with the evening. Chris D. and his entourage of beautiful girls appeared there one spring night. Chris was one of the early presidents of the Ecology Club. This group initiated the now popular music festival that happens every year at the former Camp Leroy Johnson now called East Campus. This festival attracts nearly 500,000 people for name acts in the Spring coinciding with the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. Gb worked on both of these Festivals at one time or another.
You finally come to an understanding about the bars in New Orleans. This is were most groups get their start in the entertainment industry. I walked into an uptown bar and sat at the bar nursing a beer and planning my next move. In walks this guy with shoulder length hair sorta permed. He had the typical wife beater T shirt and pleated slacks. It was the Italian shoes that he was scraping the oyster shells off that let me know he was one of those wise guys who run New Orleans from the shadows. Somehow or other, I was sitting next to a guy who probably kills for the Marcello mafia that was New Orleans in the 60's. Unless you are in the know you won't see the bakery named Gambino. Now Gambino is an New York crime family name from the thirties. They migrated to New Orleans along with Carlos Marcello from Sicily. There are so many theories about the Kennedy assassination. The one I know to be true is the Marcello story of Bobby Kennedy making it hard on the cosa nostra as Attorney General. These wise guys have a lot of interest in keeping the Feds out of their business. It only took a phone call to organize a presidential assassination in public to tame the government. Remember Bobby was killed the next year along with Martin. You can't say coincidence anymore. This is the reason I hardly ever go to New Orleans anymore. The Big Easy makes me extremely nervous even to this day. Oswald did the shooting along with a bunch of other guys. They never found the bullets that missed....Interesting...
Louisiana State University of New Orleans aka the University of New Orleans was the only University available to me. I had no scholarship or any genuine educational skills. It was all hard. It took all my time. Yet I found time to hear free lectures that set my course for life. I wandered into a afternoon lecture by an FBI agent who shared stories about what he did and who he captured. One of these stories was about this young Italian who associated with the Cosa Nostra of New Orleans. This man had an unruly daughter. The way this guy handled unruly behavior was to lock the child in a dog cage for weeks on end without baths or proper nutrition. When the agent finally found her she was dehydrated and very tired of dog food. She could not stand upright for a long time.
I was constantly fascinated by the various people who came to visit the French Quarter. One night I was sitting in the garden patio of a restaurant in the Vieux Carre' when a long haired traveler sits down at my table and pulls out a small leather sack. He then empties the sack into my hand. My eyes locked on to what I was now holding. A variety of precious stones now decorated my once barren hand consisting of emeralds from Afghanistan, fire opals from Australia and a variety of rubies from India.
These stones were easily worth many thousands of dollars. He asked me to examine them which I was certainly glad to do and make a recommendation about where to sell them in New Orleans as if I knew. I knew many silver smiths who would be interested in these stones. I said you must have an idea of how much these stones are worth, don't you? He smiled a weak smile and said I can always go back and bring more here. I told him about the little guild of silversmiths and he said he would look for them the next day. A man with wealth like that must know that robbery is always a possibility. I am glad he sought me out. People knew of me and how reliable I was. That never makes you rich though.
Fitzhugh was an Irishman who served inViet Nam. He came back all shot up with leg braces and a very bad attitude. He also knew first hand, Bernadette Devlin of the Irish Republican Army during those mean of the war between the Catholics and Protestants taking place in Northern Ireland. I was writing for the NOLA Express and saw a good story in this guy so I arranged a few meetings to do a through interview.
Fritz as he liked to be called, was a man with soldier's blood coursing through his veins. He took a job casting those little lead soldiers that are meticulously painted by hand. These are sold in specialty hobby shops throughout the city. Each well done piece could bring as much as $50 for just one tiny soldier of the Napoleonic wars. Fritz had a whole army of these pieces. After spending a few days in interview, I was drawing a clearer picture of the anger he was capable of as his talk was always about guns and smuggling to the IRA. I decided to cut my losses and abandon the story. Later that year, I heard he was busted for running guns across state lines and was doing a life sentence in Leavenworth. End of story for a killer like him. You meet all kinds in the Vieux Carre' of New Orleans. Next stop nowhere soon.
There was a bar on Decatur St called New Jerusalem. Right across from the French Market on the corner where they hold flea markets on Sunday. I'd haul my guitar there and play to anyone. One night Anne was there when I walked in. I asked her to listen to my songs and style. I was in love with this beauty. I pursued her for many years, never screwing up the courage to get frisky. One night I found her with another man. It broke my heart to see her anymore. Such is life for the poor on the wrong side of town.
