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"Hurt"
by Claude Hall
Chapter 13
They drove me downhill and stopped a few yards from my
pickup. Dawson was silent the entire trip. His
daughter chatted constantly, but I couldn't make much
sense of it except the part about her wanting to go to
college somewhere in the east.
"Under the circumstances," said Dawson, "I'm going to
let you borrow that blanket for a couple of days. But
I find it very strange that a grown man was up on that
mountain without any clothes."
"I would find it very difficult to explain something
like that," I said.
"Don't bother. I would find it very difficult to
believe any explanation. I don't think there is one."
I stood there a moment, trying to think of the right
words to warn him.
"About that voice and the red eyes that shone in the
dark...maybe the eyes your daughter saw the other
night," I said. "I'd be very careful. It might be
wise to send your daughter off to visit a relative
somewhere. Minnesota or Indiana. The further away at
the moment, the better. Because of that gun thing the
other night."
He stared at me.
"She's in danger?"
"Great danger," I said.
He was silent a moment.
"You would know about great danger?" he asked.
"Not all of the time. Sometimes, yes."
"I'm not very happy that someone would put my daughter
in that kind of situation the other night. She's a
little too young to understand all of the realities of
life. Kids today don't have a lot of sense
sometimes."
"If there was someone else in the cave back there
tonight...." I let the words trail off.
"I'll go back up there and look around," Dawson said.
"I wouldn't go tonight," I said. "Wait until
daylight."
"It's always night in a cave. Anyway, they'll be gone
by then," he said simply.
"Yes. I would hope so."
"This is not all fat," Dawson said.
"I know you're strong," I said. "But even the
strength of a gorilla might not account for much
against great evil."
He was silent for a good while. He stared at me. He
looked at the fading moon. Finally, having made up
his mind about something, he merely nodded. "What
would you suggest?"
"Look around tomorrow maybe. But be very careful.
Let me know if you find anything."
"Okay," he said. "I've been putting together a
special shot for a mountain lion hunt up in Zion
National Park. I'll load my rifle with that...take
that with me."
Purely from an irrational flash of insight, I
suggested he add a few flakes of gold.
"Why?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," I admitted.
"Doesn't
have to be much...just a tiny bit or two."
"Well, I suppose I have an old ring around the house
somewhere. I sure hate to ruin anything good. Maybe
an old pin from something my wife used to wear when
she was alive. You sure this is worthwhile?"
"I'm not sure of anything," I said.
I got a slip of paper out of my pickup and wrote down
my own telephone number and the telephone number that
Ed Esposito had given me. "This guy's with the
police. He's a friend. You can talk to him."
"I've never had much dealing with the police," Dawson
said. "I don't even know how to talk to a cop. Spent
most of my life dodging them."
"All you have to do is mention my name," I said.
Whether that was actually true or not, I didn't know.
But I'd already began to think of Ed Esposito as a
friend. I didn't have many friends, of course. J.D.,
I suppose. And Ed Esposito, maybe. And Amanda
Robinson, perhaps.
And Doris.
I told Dawson that Esposito might eventually want to
talk to his daughter on the shy, so to speak, but that
I would surely hope that it was a long distance phone
call.
"You really think this thing is that serious?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "I most certainly do."
His daughter backed the jeep out to the road, turned,
and they sped home. She was already discussing what
clothes to pack for a trip to visit "Aunt Winona
Chadwick in Carlsbad, New Mexico."
After tossing the blanket in the back of the pickup, I
unfolded my blue jeans and teeshirt from behind the
seat and slowly began to dress. The moon sat on the
rim of the earth, but even when I looked directly at
it, I felt nothing. The night had turned out to be
more or less of a fiasco, I guess. I hadn't found out
anything really important. Nothing much had been
accomplished.
I retrieved my billfold and keys and I crawled under
the steering wheel, started the pickup, and backed out
to the road. I think I took out of a couple of
prickly pear cactus plants along the way.
It was a long and rather dreary ride back to town.
Now and then I caught myself looking either in the
rearview mirror or over my shoulder. So far as I
could tell, no shadow was following me. But I felt
eerie, you know? Like someone was watching me even
though I must have been driving about 75 miles an
hour. When I saw the lights of the Fiesta, a casino
that had been once on the edge of town, but was now
engulfed by neighborhoods, I was pretty pleased. I'd
never been in the place, but the lights for some
reason gave me a sense of security.
Amanda was still awake when I got home a little while
after midnight. And she had a visitor I noticed as I
entered my apartment. She also had evidently visited
a beauty parlor since I'd seen her last; her hair had
been styled like Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca." It
was still white, but the way it was fixed she looked
at least seven or eight years younger. She now wore a
very nice blouse and a pair of slacks like you might
see on a toredor in a bull ring somewhere in Mexico.
I only realized that bit about the slacks because I'd
seen something like those slacks in a movie with
Esther Williams, but I couldn't remember the name of
the movie. There was some very good music in it, but
that was about all I could remember. And the way
Esther Williams was dressed when she went out to fight
the bull instead of her brother who actually wanted to
be a piano player.
"We've been talking about you," Amanda said.
"I've been telling her about all of your character
defects," said J.D. "A virtually endless list."
He was dressed as usual. Black suit and white shirt
with a neat, sharp black bow tie that looked like tiny
wings. He was sitting on the end of the couch just as
if it were the couch at the office. The only thing
different was that he wasn't looking at a newspaper.
I recovered as best I could. His presence here at the
apartment, however, meant one thing for sure: J.D.
hadn't gone to work tonight. I found it difficult to
believe that he'd avoided the hospital because of
Braun. But that might have been the case.
"Don't believe him," I told Amanda. "I have no
character defects. And anyway J.D. is the most
pessimistic person I know. That's because he eats
lemons for breakfast. On sourdough bread."
"Fiddle! I have found your friend J.D. to be most
charming and quite entertaining," said Amanda.
I suppose my jaw must have dropped open.
"I can see that side of my nature surprises you," said
J.D. "Good."
I could only shake my head back and forth.
"Did you know that your friend is an authority on
Shakespeare?" Amanda said. Her sentence was a
question, but she said it as if it were the absolute
truth and she was just making a statement of
confirmation.
"No. I didn't know that," I said. I was perfectly
aware, of course, that J.D. might have actually known
William Shakespeare personally. "Can I talk to you?
Outside?" I asked J.D.
"No need," said Amanda, rising from her easy chair.
"Now that you're home, I can go to bed. There's food
in the oven, if you're hungry."
I realized suddenly that I was very hungry.
"I'm starved," I said.
She smiled. "Everything's still warm. Make sure you
turn the oven off. I'll see you in the morning."
J.D., the instant cavalier, arose quickly from the
couch, took her hand, and bent and kissed it. She
smiled courteously at him and nodded with regal
dignity.
She went down the short hallway into the bedroom,
walking, I thought, with a lot of youthful spring to
her step, and closed the door.
"Charming woman," said J.D. "I found her quite
fascinating. Has a dog for a brother, but is
practically an angel herself. You and I might need to
talk to her brother at some point."
"First things first," I said.
"Right," said J.D., in what was, I supposed, his first
serious tone of voice of the evening.
"Food," I said, and headed for the kitchen and the
food in the oven.
"I don't know why I didn't surmise that," J.D. said,
following me into the kitchen.
Amanda had prepared a plate. The steak was somewhat
rare. There was a baked potato and a large chunk of
jalapeno-cheese bread from the deli inside the
supermarket.
"You hungry?" I asked.
He shook his head after examining the steak. "I spent
a lot of time in Texas once upon a lifetime, remember?
We cook our meat down there."
"Amanda is really a good cook," I told him.
"The apartment is a lot cleaner, too," said J.D.
"It is?"
"You'd never notice something like that, of course,"
he said.
While I ate, J.D. walked softly back and forth in the
kitchen. Even I heard his footsteps as if from a
distance.
As if he could read my mind, he stopped at the
refrigerator, opened it, and took out a quart of milk.
"Lowfat?" He held the carton up and read the
information on the side panel.
"Better for you," I explained when he placed the
carton of milk on the table by my plate.
"Health!" he said. "I've almost forgotten what it
would feel like to be healthy."
"You!"
"You say that in a rather astonished tone of voice."
"How could you possibly have anything wrong?"
He pulled out a chair and virtually fell into it on
the other side of the kitchen table.
"You can't imagine how your bones ache sometimes from
the cold. Even here in Las Vegas where people wear
sweaters when the temperature drops down to 80
degrees. It's the arthritis that bothers me the
most."
I paused as I spread butter on the baked potato.
"I'm sorry, J.D. I didn't know."
"Goes with the turf," he said.
"Did you really know Shakespeare?"
"Hell, no! I read a lot, that's all. With my kind of
condition, you have plenty of time for reading."
I finished buttering the potato and put a lot of salt
and pepper on it.
"You didn't go to work tonight," I said. It wasn't
really an accusation. Just a statement and only half
a question.
"No. I started that direction. Then I thought it
might be a little more prudent if we went
together...or, as this particular situation might
warrent...didn't go together. I stopped here and
Amanda came to the door when I knocked."
"Good," I said.
"Actually, I also wanted to warn you about Doris
O'Connor," he said.
Suddenly, I wasn't hungry any longer. I placed the
fork on the right side of my plate, then laid the
steak knife on the left, making sure that they were
horizontal to each other. The carton of milk, I
placed at the corner of a rectangle with the salt
shaker and the pepper shaker serving as "posts" at two
of the other corners. I scouted around for something
to use as another "post."
"Is she in danger?"
My voice sounded strange to me. It had a rasp to it
like a nail file on the edge of a piece of flint. But
overall the tone was very low and controlled.
"I have to make that assumption," J.D. said. "Your
friend Gertrude called my apartment earlier this
evening and left a message on the phone. She wanted
to remind me that you and I had an appointment with
Braum tonight and she wondered if we might ask the
O'Connor girl to come along. So they definitely know
about her. That little fact doesn't bode well at all
for your girlfriend."
I couldn't speak for a moment and when I could, all I
could think of to say was: "Interesting."
"I thought so myself," said J.D. "Then, Gertrude
said
she'd forgot about the O'Connor girl being out of
town. She asked if the O'Connor girl was still up in
Reno with her parents. To me, it sounded like a
threat."
"She's still up there so far as I know," I said.
"Maybe she'll be safe up there."
"And maybe not," I said.
"And maybe not," J.D. repeated.
I thought about the situation for a while. I hated to
ask the question that was foremost in my mind, because
J.D. was, after all, a friend. Probably the best
friend I'd ever had. I don't know why I needed to
know. And, to tell the truth, was even nervous
thinking about it.
"You aren't afraid of Braun, are you?" I asked
finally.
"No," said J.D., also in a thoughtful tone as if he
had to give the matter serious consideration.
"Prudent, perhaps. But not afraid. What could he
possibly do to someone like me?"
"But you were worried that he might come calling on me
and find Amanda alone...."
"That is not the reason you found me here," he said
sharply. "I'm not getting mudane and sentimental in
my old age."
"Of course, not," I said.
I got up and opened the freezer compartment and took
out the ice cream carton. It was just an ordinary
round cardboard container. I set it on the table and
took out a few of the bills. I held out some of the
money toward J.D., but he just shook his head.
"If you need any, help yourself," I said. I placed
the ice cream carton back in the freezer compartment.
"You forget," said J.D. "I've been playing with
stocks and bonds since before you were born. Come to
think of it, before your great, great grandfather was
born."
I turned to face him.
"I thought you always lost in the stockmarket."
"I have lost enough money to buy Alaska. On the other
hand, my portfolio includes a few little things such
as AT&T, IBM, Standard Oil. And many years ago, I
bought stock in a company started by a kid out in
Seattle. I think his name was Gates."
"Never heard of him," I said.
"You're kidding, of course."
"No."
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter a hill of beans, to
use an old Texas cliché. What's important is that I'm
filthy rich."
"Then why work? Especially for a guy like Braun."
"Work is what men do," J.D. said, "when they don't
have anything better to do. A night job keeps me out
of trouble. Most of the time."
I wrote down the names and phone numbers of Ed
Esposito and Dawson and handed the slip of paper to
him. "I'll be back in a few days. Maybe even sooner.
If you need help, Ed for sure. As for Dawson...."
I
shrugged my shoulders.
As briefly as I could, I explained everything that had
happened to me during the day...everything that I
knew. I also told him about the third shadow in the
cave.
He stood up, took my arm and quickly steered me to the
door.
"Take a plane," he said.
I shook my head. "I'm afraid of planes."
"Gertrude probably isn't," he said. For one of the
few times since I'd known him, his voice carried a
thin tone of alarm.
"How do you take a plane?" I asked.
He told me to go to the counter, lay a hundred dollar
bill on the counter, and he would guarantee someone
would get me on an airplane to Reno...probably even
escort me to the gate.
"Did you see that thing in Gertrude's hair the other
day?" J.D. asked.
"Yes. A funny-looking comb."
"Comb, my ass! It was alive."
"Alive?" I was dumbfounded.
"A gremlin, I think," he said. "I couldn't be sure
without going over and plucking it from her head. I
started to do that, but I was afraid the damned thing
might bite me."
"I wonder what that indicates."
"It damned well indicates that you've got to be
careful," he said.
"I'm always careful."
"But from now on, expect the unexpected. Be alert.
Jump at even the slightest noise, the whisper of a
leaf in the trees, the shift of the wind."
"I wish we knew exactly what these dervish things
are."
"I'm afraid that we may find out all too soon," said
J.D.
By the time I reached McCarren International, the sun
was just breaking day.
It wasn't that difficult, of course. Once I'd parked
my pickup and got into the terminal, I saw a sign that
said: "Tickets." I told a lady behind the counter
that I wanted to go to Reno and she told me I'd have
to take another airline and pointed down the way.
Soon, I was on my way to a gate and walking down a
short square tunnel.
A few minutes later, I was on my way to Reno armed
with a small bag with less than a handful of peanuts
and a cup of coffee.
I also had a slip of paper with the address of Senator
Bangor O'Connor. J.D. had thought of just about
everything. Except instructions on how to rent a car.
But me and the guy behind the counter of Avis finally
figured that out together and he was even kind enough
to give me a map that included Reno, Sparks, and Lake
Tahoe.
I didn't mind the airport; it was comfortable and
homey. The airport in Las Vegas had too many people
coming and going. The airport in Reno didn't.
I had to stop and ask for directions a couple of
times, but I finally found the right road and the
houses quickly dropped away and the desert and in
about the time it takes to read the entire newspaper
of Las Vegas, five or ten minutes for a slow reader
like me, I'd driven up into the cedars and soon was
entering the pines.
The O'Connor's actually lived just half a mile or so
from Lake Tahoe in a magnificent redwood house
constructed on the side of a mountain. The car I'd
rented was a small Chevrolet because the guy behind
the rental counter at the airport said there wasn't a
whole lot of calls for a pickup. But the car made the
long climb to the lake without any trouble and, after
I stopped for instructions once again, I found the
road up the side of the mountain to the house.
I wasn't nervous as I parked and got out of the
car...I was absolutely quivering. I don't think I'd
ever met a senator before. But that didn't worry me
half as much as facing her father and mother for the
first time. What if they didn't like me?
The house was made of wood and it had hidden under
towering pines for a long, long time and smelled good
and comfortable. The odor of honeysuckle vines
floated across the veranda that stretched across the
front and around the far side. The odor of the
honeysuckle was strong and almost intoxicating.
I climbed up the steps to the veranda and was just
about to knock on the screen door when I heard quiet
voices from around the corner of the house.
They rocked slowly back and forth in a porch swing
that needed painting, heads together, pointing at a
bird on a far branch of a pine tree.
The lady who sat beside Doris looked an awful lot like
her, except she was older. I don't know how many
years older. She looked like an older sister, but I
knew for a fact that Doris didn't have a sister so
this was, for sure, her mother.
They looked up as I came around the corner of the
veranda and smiled.
"You've got to be Chuck," the older woman said.
"We've been expecting you."
(to be continued)
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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Commentary
by
Claude Hall
January 12, 2004
by Claude Hall
Lou Dorren, head of Bay Sound Records,
xytar@yahoo.com, asked me
to review his newest CD,
"The Storyteller," a rock opera based on the trilogy
"Lord of the Rings." Everyone calls Lou
"Uncle Lou"
in this family, so I had John Alexander Hall, a Los
Angeles attorney; Darryl Hall, a bon vivant of San
Diego; and Andy Hall, a college professor and one of
Nevada's leading poets, listen to the CD. Right. My
three sons. Viola! They all liked it. Lou
produced
the CD on his rather unique Xytar recording system.
Amazing acoustics. If you'd like to have a free copy
of the CD, you might email Lou and include your
snailmail address. I'm not sure he'll send you
one...I forgot to ask...but it would certainly be
worth a try. Collector's item from the first note.
About the acoustical/video world of Uncle Lou, who is,
indeed, involved in many rather thunderous systems,
inventions, and thingamabobs: "Nobody gives a crap
about quality anymore. DVDs suck with their lossey
data compression and the crappy and stupid 5.1 audio.
The film industry just does not get it."
THE BURNING BUSH
Bruce Miller Earle, ingbme@hotmail.com,
who hangs out
quite frequently in the prickly pear cactus of the
fabled Hill Country of Texas as well as further south,
sent me a copy of a news story about Willie Nelson's
new song that appeared in the Austin (TX)
American-Statesman, and I wrote back: "Thanks for
forwarding that Willie stuff to me. I've already send
a copy to Simon Renshaw, manager of the Dixie Chicks,
and an old buddy of mine named Raul Cardenas. I once
worked on that newspaper. Not for long, though,
before cutting out in my Beetle with Barbara and the
baby (John) to go to work on the New Orleans
Times-Picayune. Just FYI, they're patrolling the
Strip tonight (New Year's Eve) with gunships. Jesus!
What if something goes amiss...are they going to fire
rockets into the crowd? I told Andy not to go up
there tonight. Not worried about a terrorist.
Worried about some nut behind a .50 caliber!"
Side note re above: Raul Cardenas, Ph.D., is one of
the world's leading authorities on water and air
pollution and has invented a purification system that
eventually might save the world. If there's a world
left worth saving, of course. Raul, an old teasipper
(he attended The University of Texas) like me, served
in Korea.
So, the letters appeared this week and last week
regarding my feelings in regards to your president,
the Burning Bush, and I had this from John Alexander
Hall, johnalexhall@hotmail.com:
"Dad: Read your latest
edition. The comments that you got attacking your
articles were quite amusing. The easiest thing for
someone to do if they don't like your stuff is to
block and delete your email, and not respond. Most of
the comments attacking your articles were laughable.
If they are so concerned about the murders done by
Saddam, are they now going to insist that we send our
armies to Africa? North Korea? Actually, the past
few years I have been more worried about North Korea
attacking the U.S. than Iraq."
Just discovered that John Rook, jhrook@earthlink.net,
has set up a spam blocker against me. What a shame.
I thought he was a better man. I'll just delete him
from my list. Would anyone else like to be deleted?
I seriously doubt, John, that we'd attack any part of
Korea again because we got our tail stomped there once
before. It was not exactly a matter of bombs and guns
in Korea, it was a matter of numbers. Fernando
Corral, a Mexican buddy, once told me of standing,
waiting, listening to the "gooks" as he called them,
doping up, razzing up, behind the hill. And then they
came over the hill, running. You shot one, someone
else picked up his rifle and they kept on coming. And
there were more than you could count and you couldn't
kill them all even though you kept on trying. Your
gun grew too hot to shoot. You couldn't stop. Just
FYI, Fernando was the only one left alive in his
company. When he came to later, wounded, but alive,
there were only dead people around him. GIs and North
Koreans. Dead as far as he could see. No one left to
even write him up for a commendation. They gave him
the Purple Heart anyway. Fernando and I had a fight
and I haven't kept in touch with him, but Raul
Cardenas has and maybe Raul will pass along the
message that I talked about him. Even while attending
the University of Texas, Fernando slept with a loaded
.45, safety off, beneath his pillow. Korean did a lot
of things to a lot of GIs. So did Vietnam. So will
Iraq.
Steve Warren reports this week that up to 22,000 U.S.
troops have been evacuated from Iraq for battle
injuries, non-battle injuries, psychological problems,
surgical needs and other unpleasant things.
(click
here to read)
Anyway, there's not enough oil in North Korea to
bother with an unprovoked, capricious, unwarranted
attack for the sake of Halliburton. Unless, of
course, Cheney hears that North Korea is hiding Osama
bin Laden. By the way, my son John predicts that Bush
and Cheney will find Osama just before the
election...that it's all planned and timed.
Darryl Hall, darryl551@lycos.com:
"The commentary was
a little surprising because I didn't think that many
people would be that strongly in favor of Bush. I
wonder if they are that informed."
Also had another note from a Texan named Dave that was
against Bush; I'm not including it because Dave didn't
give me his last name. But it seems that my emailed
Christmas diatribe is circulating rather well and Dave
is one of those recirculating and I'm grateful to him
for that. I think he received the email from an old
high school chum, Rhunell Ash, but I'm not sure.
A good friend named Jay Blackburn and I have been
swapping dialogue about my diatribe about Bush. I had
mentioned that the guys in the black suits and
sunglasses might be coming around and Jay responded:
"If, as you suggest, Ashcroft's minions with their
sunglasses and cheap suits come and get you, I hope
you rat me out. I think the perp walk would look good
if you had an old crippled man in a wheel chair with
you. I think we'd look good in handcuffs. Bruce
might want to go too. I'll loan him my walking
stick." Then Chance, Jay's wife, read my Commentary
and Jay reports: "Monday morning I told C.B. that I
was going to go to jail with Claude. She said OK, try
to look good on TV. Then last evening she told me that
we really weren't going to be incarcerated, 'Claude
just told the truth!' She also told me to quit being
such a drama queen. Now that Ashcroft has reclused
himself, I can't wait for your next political
commentary."
Personal observation: Those for Bush seemed a little
more vicious than those against Bush. Those for Bush
seemed willing and even eager to hurt you--meaning, of
course, me specifically, in any way possible. One guy
said I was no longer his friend, but the legendary
George Wilson warned me years and years ago about the
mistake of assuming business associates were friends
so I don't think I really lost a friend after all.
Those against Bush didn't think much of Bush, but were
more logical and even calm in their reasoning. There
were, of course, a few who were for Bush who also
displayed considerable intellect. Assumption, we may
be moralistic and viciously astray as a nation at the
moment, but perhaps there is still hope.
If you're interested, there's a white paper on the
Internet--"Vietnam Veterans Against the War"--by John
Kerry to the Senate Committee of Foreign Relations,
April 23, 1972. It starts: "I would like to
talk on
behalf of all those veterans and say that several
months ago in Detroit we had an investigation at which
over 150 honorably discharged, and many very highly
decorated, veterans testified to war crimes committed
in Southeast Asia. These were not isolated incidents
but crimes committed on a day-to-day basis with the
full awareness of officers at all levels of command.
It is impossible to describe to you exactly what did
happen in Detroit - the emotions in the room and the
feelings of the men who were reliving their
experiences in Vietnam. They relived the absolute
horror of what this country, in a sense, made them do.
They told stories that at times they had personally
raped, cut off ears, cut off heads, taped wires from
portable telephones to human genitals and turned up
the power, cut off limbs, blown up bodies, randomly
shot at civilians, razed villages in fashion
reminiscent of Ghengis Khan, shot cattle and dogs for
fun, poisoned food stocks, and generally ravaged the
countryside of South Vietnam in addition to the normal
ravage of war and the normal and very particular
ravaging which is done by the applied bombing power of
this country. We call this investigation the Winter
Soldier Investigation. The term Winter Soldier is a
play on words of Thomas Paine's in 1776 when he spoke
of the Sunshine Patriots and summertime soldiers who
deserted at Valley Forge because the going was rough.
We who have come here to Washington have come here
because we feel we have to be winter soldiers now. We
could come back to this country, we could be quiet, we
could hold our silence, we could not tell what went on
in Vietnam, but we feel because of what threatens this
country, not the reds, but the crimes which we are
committing that threaten it, that we have to speak
out.... In our opinion and from our experience, there
is nothing in South Vietnam which could happen that
realistically threatens the United States of America.
And to attempt to justify the loss of one American
life in Vietnam, Cambodia or Laos by linking such loss
to the preservation of freedom, which those misfits
supposedly abuse, is to us the height of criminal
hypocrisy, and it is that kind of hypocrisy which we
feel has torn this country apart."
http://www.landscaper.net/viethist.htm@State
Department White Paper On Vietnam
58,178 U.S. soldiers died as a result of the Vietnam
War, according to the Vietnam Memorial Wall Page on
the Internet. Approximately 5.7 million served in
Vietnam 1950-53. A stalemate was declared in June
1951.
Now we learn that Bush planned to attack Iraq before
9/11 (former Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill, AP,
1/10/2004). I wonder just how many American soldiers
he planned on getting killed? These things, you know,
are projected in front.
It is my contention--and to hell with Ashcroft--that
we are making a horrible mistake in Iraq. That there
is no war Bush, a would-be president, didn't create
and foster to the benefit of not only himself, but his
cohorts. I would also sincerely like to know how many
Iraqi women and children have been killed in Iraq (no
one seems to be counting kids) because I think their
sad souls are hanging in Bush's office in the White
House.
Joey Reynolds: G1boney@aol.com,
regarding my recent
Christmas diatribe: "Wonderful piece and I forwarded
it (hope you don't mind) to one of my friends who
happened to be on the show and he wrote the Phil Ochs
book years ago and is currently enjoying success with
Donna Summers book. Marc Eliot is his name and he
also wrote Erin Brockevich, Barry White, Bruce
Springsteen, Hollywood's dark prince (Walt Disney) and
next fall Cary Grant. We play a Phil Ochs song that
is relevant called 'Cops of the World'."
Marc Eliot, MEliot6041@aol.com:
"Right on. As I told
you in the car the other night, Joey, the rest of the
world does not see us as carriers of 'Manifest
Destiny'. A good piece, you ought to read some of it
on air. Thanks for letting me chime in last night.
It was fun."
OTHER MATTERS
Jim Gabbert, JGabb@aol.com,
spotted my comment about
an FCC engineer who was in favor of quad broadcasting
in the 1970s. "Hi, Claude: The engineer's name was
Harold Kassens!"
I quickly emailed back: Jim! Right! How could
I
forget? Getting old, I guess. How are you doing and
what are you doing? Barbara and I are retired in Las
Vegas. I'm writing fiction, which I can't sell, and
doing the website and raising hell. So, I stay busy.
Last two weekly segments on website have created a bit
of a flurry. Which I find interesting. I hope you're
doing well.
Jim: "I stumbled across your online
newsletter/column...interesting. What ever happened
to Jim Gabbert? The TV became a WB affiliate and
incredibly successful, bought a kilowatt daytimer from
Doug Pledger in 1986...KOFY (1050 AM)...negotiated a
deal with Mexico (1050 was a Mexican Clear) finally
got 50 KW full time...also bought KPAY (1060) in Chico
and shut it down so 1050 could cover Sacramento and
the valley. We flipped it Spanish in the early 90s and
became so number one that we beat all other Spanish
stations combined. This was just before KLAX broke
through (in fact, Raul hired our best people). Also,
when we first got KOFY as a KW daytimer I went do-wop
oldies, was the morning man and beat KYA-FM and even
beat K101 (under Bob Price). Also I bought KDIA and
we were on the way up again when we got the most
incredible offer for the TV that I decided it was time
to sell. Susquehanna bought KOFY (AM) in 1998 ($15
mil for an AM!) and then had to sell KDIA because of
taxes so it went to Disney. Now work when I want to
at KGO as a talk show host. I will only do fill in
and interestingly enough it's the first time in my
life I don't sign the paycheck. Still have the boat
you were on but had a 165-footer built in Italy,
launched in 2000. It cruises around the world and we
meet it wherever it is. Also got into flying, bought
Prince Bandars' (sp?) executive 727 which I fly, have
a Citation Encore (a smaller jet), Hap Arnold's
(father of the airforce) DC-3 and a smaller Grummann
Tiger for fun. Sitting down in Puerto Vallarta
sipping Margaritas. Mike Lincoln says hi!"
Just FYI: Jim Gabbert built KPEN in San Francisco,
later called K101, from the ground up when only a few
people in the states knew what FM was. He sold it for
the $12 million to buy the TV station.
Then from Gabbert: "P.S. Also still very active in DC.
A member of the Media Security Reliability Council
and a board member of the Partnership for Public
Warning. Both of these were formed after 911 after
the realization that EAS is the only public warning
system that we have. Also State Emergency
Communications Chair for CA and the most recent task
was the implementation of the Amber alert system. We
have rescued 55 kids in the past 12 months in Calif.
alone. Lou calls me once in a while when I'm on KGO."
And: "P.S. Ran into Don Nelson (WIRE) in Palm Springs
recently. He's selling real estate."
Last: Jim sent me a picture of his 727. Living room,
bedroom, bath, kitchen/gallery. Enough luxury to make
you cry. I've been on the yacht in Sausalito...gold
ornaments in the bathroom, etc. I think I'm a little
nervous about seeing pictures of that Italian
thingamajig. I remarked to Joey Reynolds the other
day: How come I'm the only poor person I know?
And this from Bruce Miller Earle, ingbme@hotmail.com:
"I got to thinking when you mentioned that you had
heard from the elusive Jim Gabbert the other day. I
owe it to you for getting the two of us together in
the early seventies. I still vividly remember the
night in San Francisco when you arranged for Craig
Turner and myself to wind up on the invite list at the
party on Gabbert's yacht in Sausalito. I also
remember fielding a question or 25 from FCC
Commissioner Wally Johnson. He was all ears regarding
the million-watt AM that Art Holt and I had fired up
in Costa Rica a few months earlier on 625 Khz. Seems
that a few U.S. first-adjacent channels on 620 and 630
thought we were having two much fun when Radio Million
blew by. Never did get a copy of the pictures taken
by the guy trying to hide behind the various house
plants on the boat. Oh well. You had mentioned that
Gabbert was checking in from his boat anchored of the
coast at Puerto Vallarta. If you have the chance
please give him my regards and pass on my E-mail to
him. I would like to contact him. Cynthia and I have
a home over looking the Pacific Ocean not too far from
there at Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca. We are just now
getting the place furnished to the point that we can
comfortably receive house guests. In fact Jay and I
hope to make an extended visit there this spring. As
you have mentioned in various postings, you also have
a soft spot in your heart for the ocean. As soon as
we are squared away there, you and Barbara are
welcomed anytime. Mexicana offers daily air service
making it easy to get there. We have a TELMEX 56 K
Internet connection at the house that is pretty darn
reliable. You will be able to stay in touch via the
Internet while you are there. And if really needed a
working telephone is on premise. It is tranquil and
safe as Don Ismael the grounds keeper is on site 24/7.
Puerto is the surfing spot of the world and the city
is real safe. I can guarantee you will be safe and
secure there. I have attached some photos of Casa
Alderete so you can know your home on the Pacific
Coast. Who knows, maybe we can have Gabbert sail down
and we can make it a real party! Saludos."
I emailed Bruce that the only trouble I'd ever had in
Mexico was with a gringo many, many years ago in Cabo
San Lucas. Of course, I guess I could say the same
thing for the United States.
Jim Gabbert came back with: "I remember Bruce real
well. By the way, while the boat
(www.yachtinvader.com)
is down there we have a large
villa that used to be a B&B. Go down there a lot, in
fact have what is called an FM3 Mexican retirement
permit. Interesting, when we arrived at Oakland
yesterday, the custom guys were complete asses to
start with...Mike got out of the airplane and was
asked what he did for a living and he told them he was
retired and the next question was what did you do? He
replied that he owned part of WB-20 with Jim Gabbert.
The customs guy says: 'I remember Gabbert from that
50s dance party on Saturday nights'...then he looked
at me and said, 'Oh my God!! It's him!' All of a
sudden he was nice and didn't care about where we'd
been...just an autograph for the wife. 50s dance
party was a takeoff on the early dance parties on TV
except we used people now in their 50s in poodle
skirts. I was the host and we got a 10-year run out
of it. Dick Clark used to come up and co-host for fun
once in awhile. We were number one in the market Sat.
nights at 8P before Fox hit the airwaves...then they
took the crown away from us, but we kept the show on
the air thru 98. The guests we had were Frankie Ford,
Hank Ballard, Fats Domino, etc. It was great TV!
By
the way, I'll be on KGO Jan. 27, 28. 29, 30 from 7pst
to 10pst. www.KGO.com."
Ted Hepburn, TEDHEP@aol.com:
"Good nostalgia, Claude.
I thought you'd find this of interest. After thirty
five years I'm still at it. Third closing this year."
Ted sent me a note about the sale of five Sunair
Communications stations of David and Susan Bernstein
of Selinsgrove, PA. in central Pennsylvania to Max
Media of Pennsylvania headed by CEO A. E. Loving, Jr.,
COO John A. Trinder and Radio Group President Larry
Saunders.
Stefan Holman, Stefan.Holman@sca.com:
"Thank you for
the mail i got. That is good to here that Sam was so
succesfull. Sam have 4 cids incl my wife. 3 of them
is living in the USA. My mother in law toke
Christina to Swededen 1964 and we dont no if Sam was
told. But we are happy that he got to see his first
grandson Andreas."
Ted Atkins, kruzers@msn.com:
"Just got my hands on
Radio 'N Records' 30th anniversary edition and it's
really something. It includes two CDs that depict
radios history, noteworthy stations and all music
genres. The airchecks are priceless. Track down this
R 'n R special and you'll be WOWed! I can still
remember a day in late '72, when I was still in LA,
when Bob Wilson called me at home to discuss his plan
for launching R 'n R. He was putting feelers out all
over the country. Erica Farber is now head of the
publication. She was in sales at KIIS when I worked
there briefly with Chuck Blore before coming to
Pittsburgh. Anyway, check out R 'n R. Guess you
could call them and order a copy. It's well worth
it."
Jay Blackburn, radiojdb@satx.rr.com:
"When I sent you
the note about George Wilson, I mentioned Ron Jacobs,
but I don't think that I mentioned Phillip Yarborough.
I agree with you that Jacobs is certainly the
brighter of the two. We learned a lot from Ron
Jacobs. When he recycled Charlie Van Dyke's KGB into
Rob Jacobs' KGB, and sent out all of those interns to
shopping centers, colleges, universities and the
beaches to do all of that research, it made a lasting
impression. Bruce Miller Earle and I recycled several
stations after that and it started us thinking about
research. You called Jacobs' KGB an 'AOR'. Well,
here's the strange thing. In 1971 Bruce and I were
doing a country AM that had an FM, but the FM was off
the air. When we asked why, we were told it was
because it didn't make any money. Well, you know
Arthur Holt. He doesn't really tell you what to do.
He only gives you hints. And if you get the hint,
you're a smart young programmer. If you don't get the
hint, you're properly chastised. In the case of this
off-the-air FM, the hint was 'Why don't you play the
big records with the little holes and maybe you'd like
to format that'. Well Bruce built the studio for the
FM in seven days. On the eighth day he rested. On
the ninth day, the format guide was finished, the new
staff was hired and it went on the air. Later that
year, Arthur took the format guide for that FM,
modified it and put the format on McKinnon's FM out in
San Diego, KSEA. Gary Perkins was running the AM and,
of course, it was country; KSON and KSEA was
automated. Even so, it threw a small wrench into the
fist fight that Charlie Van Dyke at KGB and Buzzy
Bennett at KCBQ were having. Then, of course, Ron
Jacobs came along with KGB. The point is that Ron
Jacobs didn't get credit for the format. It wasn't
until 1973 when Lee Abrams was messing around with
ABC's FM in Detroit that the format got a name - AOR.
Lee named it. The name stuck and he got credit for
the format. I have enjoyed the journey. I hope the
commentaries are going to be edited into your next
book. Currently Chance and I do not have a copy of
'This Business of Radio Programming'. We had
purchased several copies but we both used them as
textbooks when we were teaching at Columbia College in
Chicago. I even borrowed my mother's copy that was
marked with red velveteen ribbon everywhere that my
name or Bruce's name was mentioned. I passed it along
to Danny Garcia when Bruce and I hired him to run the
Houston station. Bruce had discovered Danny when he
was 15 and we have mentored him ever since. His boys
are my godchildren. And like a good programmer, Danny
passed 'This Business of Radio Programming' on to
someone else. You recently said that Jack McCoy was a
genius. He certainly was! We learned a lot from him
as well. I also mentioned Jack in the note on George
Wilson. Well, you know talent does indeed attract
talent. On Jacobs there is one story I left out. At
KGB Jacobs put out a daily newspaper for internal
consumption only. That way the jocks had all of the
liners, psa's, what was happening that day in San
Diego, etc. Also everybody in the station knew what
was happening at all times. Of course, it was such a
great idea I stole the whole thing, used it
everywhere. Ah, the radio wars of the 1970s. I don't
remember if it was your last commentary or your email
that you sent about Rob Jacobs being in the next
commentary, but you closed with 'If Clear Channel had
hired Ron Jacobs instead of Randy something-or-other,
America would still have good radio'. My best guess
is that Ron Jacobs wouldn't have worked for Lowry Mays
for more than ten minutes."
Jay and Chance also sent me a great story about John
Barger, Lowry Mays, etc., but we're all a bit
wishywashy about whether to print it or not, so....
But I do love good radio stories! L. David Moorhead
spun them by the ton. Just wish I could remember
them. What kind of stories? Well, he always joked
that he was going to write a book and charge $10,000
to anyone who wanted their name taken out.
Bruce Miller Earle, ingbme@hotmail.com:
"Happy New
Year, my friend. I thank the lord for the
opportunity to be here to stare another new year in
the face. I lost a few good friends this past year
and no matter how handicapped I may be at least I am
still here. I do look forward to being able to pay
you guys a visit in the not too distant future. I
feel your pain and frustration with the excellent
narratives you have penned about the real world in
which we are now living. It is truly amazing to read
some of the negative and hostile comments you have
received. I pity the likes of Bill Young and Ken Dowe
who I would have thought to have a better grasp of
what is happening to the country. Instead they come
off like injured citizens who have had Claude Hall doo
doo in the mess kit. I guess they have forgotten words
of the Bob Dylan song 'Subterranean Homesick Blues':
'Look out kids they keep it all hid. You had better
jump down a manhole and light yourself a candle.
Don't wear sandals and get in top 40 scandals...you
don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind
blows'. A few months ago about the time the fur
started to fly Edwin Starr passed away. Feeling a bit
nostalgic I called a local oldies station and
requested his biggest hit song 'War'. I was informed
that they no longer had that song in rotation and were
not mentioning anything about him passing away.
During Christmas I asked around why no one was playing
'So This Is Christmas' by John Lennon. I finally got
a weekender to break the code and tell me that the
higher ups had pulled it because it had lyrics
pertaining to war is over, etc. I predict the next
song to disappear from air play will be 'For What It's
Worth' by The Buffalo Springfield. 'Something
happening here...what it is ain't exactly
clear...there is a man with a gun over there...step
out of line and they gonna take you a way...you had
better stop, hey...look around, everybody look what's
going down'. If it does not vanish soon it will just
mean that somebody is momentarily asleep at the
switch. On another note I enjoyed looking up some
almost forgotten info on Jim Gabbert. Yes, he did hit
the jackpot when he sold KOFY TV Channel 20. He paid
$12 million for it in 1980 and sold it in 1997 for
$173.75 million plus a five-year non-compete clause
worth an additional $5 million. A true genius who
really helped shape our industry. I am glad that at
68 he is enjoying life to the fullest. BTW, I ran the
specs of his yacht down to a friend of mine who knows
about such crafts. His read was a custom-built craft
like his would cost about about $10 million. Hell,
imagine the fuel bill just to fill a 37,500-gallon
fuel tank. You hang in there my friend and keep the
faith. Saludos."
(to be continued)
Claude Hall
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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