A rack of pocketbooks was for sell in the store. 
Among a lot of westerns by Louis L'Amour, Snake found
one by Max Brand-"Riders of the Silences."

After sweeping out the store and straightening
everything, he locked up and turned the lights out
except for a small lamp that the owner had used over
the cash register.  Snake took that lamp and plugged
it into a wall outlet by the floor in the back of the
room.  An old cleaning rag served as a pillow.

He read until he got sleepy.

At dawn, he walked down the street and used a corner
pay phone.  The woman said she would send someone over
to operate the magazine store.  She also told him the
room number at Mt. Sinai Hospital where the store
owner had been placed.

He thought he recognized her voice.

"Tell Caraboo to meet me by my basketball court at
noon," he told the woman.

There was a pause.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," she said.

"No more games, Neva," Snake said and hung up the
phone.

A substitute clerk showed up at the store in about 20
minutes.

"You have a gun?" Snake asked.  "There may be
trouble."

The clerk, who actually looked like a clerk, merely
patted his hip.  He wore a white jacket that extended
to about his hips.  The jacket hid the small holster
where he kept his gun on his hip.  It was a regulation
police issue .38. revolver, which didn't surprise
Snake.  But after he'd figured out Caraboo's role in
all this, he doubted if he'd be surprised at much of
anything for a long, long time.

Of course, he didn't really know Caraboo's real role
in anything.  And he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

In this line of business, you usually worked on a
need-to-know basis.

The sun fought a few clouds and now and then won
through.  It was going to be a pleasant enough day
unless the wind came up in the afternoon.  Mt. Sinai
wasn't far.  He walked the distance in about 20
minutes at his usual break-neck pace.

The two policemen at the door refused him entrance. 
"Orders."

"They call me Snake," Snake said.

"Got any ID?"

"None."

"Go on in, but leave the door open.  Orders."

The wizened little store owner was sitting up in bed,
his back cushioned by several pillows.  A bed tray was
in front of him and he was eating scrambled eggs and
toast.

"Great hotel," he said.  "Who's paying the bill?"

"I used to believe it was the federal government.  Now
I'm not so sure.  But don't worry about it."

"You some kind of fed?"

Snake shrugged.  "I don't really know.  And that's the
truth.  But if you've got a problem with that, I'm
definitely one of the good guys.  More or less."

"I told you they'd come back," the store owner pointed
out.

"Same ones?"

"Except for the one who fell down and broke his neck. 
The police couldn't hold them.  Nothing on them.  Or
they were sprung by some fancy lawyer."

"What about a funny sort of squat-looking guy with big
ears?"

"Don't recall anyone like that.  But a huge monstrous
guy who wears a slight sneer like it was glued on is a
bad one.  He's the guy that gave me this."  He reached
up and touched the bandage on his head."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"They wanted to know all about you."

"What did you tell them?"

"I told they everything I could.  But I don't think it
was enough."

"Good.  You see anything of them again, you also tell
them the Snake keeps score."

"You the Snake?"

"It's a nick name pinned on me in the army by a little
guy named Susman.   The people that busted you up are
probably the same ones who kidnapped him.  I'm trying
to get Susman back."

"I was army."

"I didn't figured you for an ex-G.I.," said Snake.

"Not G.I.  Israeli.  The famous six-day war.  Say,
who's minding my store?"

"New York's finest," said Snake.

"Remind me never to say anything bad again about New
York cops."

"You need anything," said Snake.  "Just tell the cops
at the door."

"I need a million bucks," said the store owner.

"Buy one of your lottery tickets," said Snake.  He
stopped at the door.  "I'm sorry that I didn't get
back to the store in time to help you.  I figured out
what was going on just a little late."

"It's okay," said the store owner.  "I needed a couple
of days off anyway."

Snake stopped in the hallway.

"So you're Snake."

"Just a nick name," said Snake.

"We heard you handled at least a dozen gunmen
yesterday."

"There were only six."

"Two unconscious, two dead.  Not bad."

"Only one dead," said Snake.  He suddenly had a bad
premonition.

"One guy was shot in the back of the head.  We found
him a block away.  He wasn't one of yours?"

"I haven't used a gun since my days in the military,"
said Snake.  "Did the guy have funny ears?"

"Fits the description, all right.  Small bore pistol
shot from fairly close."

Snake, even though he prided himself on not showing
emotion of any kind, grimaced.  Evidently, no would be
allowed to just drop out of this game.

"Looks as if Rabbit didn't get to go fishing after
all," said Snake.  "I don't know his real name.  His
friend, the man with the broken neck, called him
Rabbit.  He was on his way to the Ozarks in Arkansas
to do some fishing."

"He didn't make it," said the policeman.

Snake walked slowly over to Madison and south until
time to turn over to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 
The thin-faced woman probably had agents strung out
around Central Park, waiting to spot him.

His meeting with Caraboo at noon was bound to cause
trouble.  He would be safe enough inside the park
because of Caraboo's army.  However, once he left the
park again, he would be spotted.  In fact, Snake was
counting on it.

He went inside the museum and found a bench in the
Egyptian exhibit, moved the bench against the wall by
a small light, and took out the Max Brand novel that
he hadn't finished last night.  He read quietly and
was relatively undisturbed except for a couple of art
students from Columbia University.

At noon, he tucked the pocketbook away and left the
museum.  He walked over to Madison and up town for
several blocks, then turned left and walked over to
Central Park.

Caraboo was sitting at the same park bench.  Neva was
not with him.

"Minding the store," he explained.

"Some store," said Snake.

"How did you catch on?  I suppose it was when I let on
that I knew entirely too much about you."

"No, Caraboo.  It was not your slip.  I put two and
seventeen together and, as usual, it came up eight."

"You always had a funny way of adding."

"I should have suspected sooner."

"Not so.  You know the rules.  No one knows much of
anything, even within the operation.  We don't
advertise."

"Right.  I know the rules."

"So you found us out?  Pity about that.  Complicates
things."

Snake nodded his head.  "The old need-to-know theory
gets tossed in the trash."

"How did you learn?"

"I telephoned in yesterday.  Then, when I paid a visit
to your old office yesterday...."

"Ah!  So that was you!"

"Just a small visit."

"One dead, one in the hospital.  Small, all right."

"I noticed a phone number scrawled on a desk pad in
the office," Snake said.  "Later, when I had the
number checked out, it turned out to be the pay phone
at the magazine store.  Doesn't take a lot of smart to
figure out the so-called room had been moved out of
Washington, D.C., to New York at some point and I was
actually working for an old friend all these years
without knowing it."

"Not precisely true," said Caraboo.  "Close, though. 
The truth is that I was, well...sort of drafted, if
you know what I mean...into this operation about a
year ago and I moved it to New York City a few months
ago.  And, frankly, the room doesn't stay put.  It's
moved every now and then for security reasons.  Yes, I
had a company called Allied Global Destination.  And,
yes, it was involved in things that were a little bit
of this and a little bit of that, just like I told
you.

"And then you were...drafted?"

"Yes.  And Allied made a good cover.  The problem is
that we stayed much too long with the Allied Global
Destination cover which was actually a cover of a
cover.  It was probably penetrated more than a month
ago."

"By who?"

"By what, you mean.  And, again, I don't know.  We're
trying to find out right now.  But you can imagine my
surprise when I noticed one of the field men was named
Snake.  That's why I contacted you in person the other
day.  Oh, I could have passed the assignment along in
the usual manner, but I wanted you more personally
involved.  And, I suppose, I sort of wanted to see you
again.  Old times.  All that nonsense."

"Has Susman really been kidnapped?"

"Yes.  Or helped to disappear.  Something.  How can
you classify anything like this?  I feel he's still
alive.  I don't know why I say that.  But I don't
think he's dead.  Again, we don't know who took him
nor why.  I've a bad feeling, though, about it.  A
very bad feeling."

"Is this a government operation?"

"Yes and no.  Funding comes from, shall we say,
interested parties around the nation.  However, I
report only to the top level and no one else and only
in an emergency.  There are no meetings, no board of
directors, no memos.  Just you and a few others and
me.  This operation was launched after that Tehran
mess, but it didn't become a reality, per se, until
the Iran-Contra flare up."

"Which was another mess."

"Well, it indicated once and for all that we needed
some way to get things done without a lot of fuss. 
That's the truth of it.  The army and the navy and the
air force are great.  FBI.  CIA.  Whatever.  But you
don't use a hammer when a pair of pliers or a
screwdriver would be the correct tool.  Sometimes a
small team, sometimes just one good person, is all
that's needed.  We have those persons and we provide
backup.  You want a policeman to handle a store while
the owner's laid up, we have one.  You need
information, you get it.  Money, no problem.  You, of
course, wouldn't enjoy the Waldort-Astoria Towers,
but, hell, if you did, that's where you'd stay."

"That's where I want to stay tonight," said Snake.

"Done.  Just call the room.  Only, for god's sake, no
more names on the phone!  This group, whoever it is,
got into the phone lines first at Allied.  The only
thing that saved us from even more trouble was the
fact that no names were used."

"Right.  I was unprofessional."

Snake stood up.

"I'm curious," said Caraboo.  "You said a day or so
ago that you owed me one?"

"It certainly wasn't that lousy block.  You actually
missed the block.  The only thing that saved you from
looking like an asshole was that you got up and almost
tackled their safety.  Fortunately, the referee didn't
blow his whistle."

"How did you see all that?  It happened like a flash! 
And you were already halfway to the goal line.  You're
right, I got away with one."

"You wouldn't remember a Fernando Corral who came to
your Allied Global office one day and asked for a
favor?"

"No," said Caraboo.  "But a lot of people ask for
favors."

"He wanted you to get four men out of jail down in
Mexico.  He couldn't say who, nor could he tell you
anything more except that they were not guilty and one
of them had asked him to come see you because he knew
you had the special connections that could get them
free.  At least, you did in those days."

"I vaguely remember.  I guess the Mexican appealed to
my sense of pride or something.  Or maybe I was in a
good mood that day."

"Funny," said Snake, "I've found that you do a lot of
things like that for people in trouble.  Not
necessarily those in trouble with the law...just
people who need a helping hand."

"Not that many," Caraboo said.  He seemed a little
embarrassed at this side of his nature being revealed.
 It did not fit his public image.  "So you were one of
those in jail."

"Yes.  Like the proverbial cliché, they had thrown
away the key.  It was a small town run by bandits. 
Short of an invasion, not even the U.S. Army could
have rescued us.  And their jail was worse than hell. 
The dead bodies were not removed.  Need I say more?"

"Please don't.  I just ate.  If I'd known it was you,
Snake, I might have come myself."

"Maybe," said Snake.

"I'd like to think that I would have come down there
immediately."

"We would all like to believe we are that kind of
person who does those sorts of things for friends.  At
the very least, you did enough.  Your emissary bribed
a person here, a person there.  Eventually, three of
us were let out."

"And the other?  Or should I ask?"

"His body is probably still there."

Caraboo looked toward the west as if expecting someone
or something.

"God, but sometimes I miss those old days.  Sometimes,
I think the Tammany Hall way was the best way.  Papa
Don.  Godfather.  Gone.  Or almost gone.  Now, it's
business.  Bookkeepers.  Rules."

"Sometimes," said Snake, "a man has to say to hell
with the rules."

"Wish I could."

A helicopter appeared from the west and begin to arrow
in on the basketball court.

"Transportation," said Caraboo.

"One more thing, Caraboo.  How did you meet Susman?"

"You introduced him to me, as I recall."

"No.  I wouldn't have done something like that.  I
would never involve a friend of mine in my
activities."

Caraboo thought a moment.  "I don't know. 
Unless...yes, I remember now.  He came to Allied
Global several months ago.  Said he was a friend of
yours and just wanted to meet me.  I thought he was a
pretty nice guy, if a little bit too, well...."

"Always apologizing."

"Right.  But he was a friend of yours.  So, I gave him
some things to do from time to time."

Caraboo gestured toward the helicopter as it touched
down.  "You want a ride?"

"No," said Snake.

"You know, don't you, that they're waiting from you to
come out of Central Park?"

"I was counting on it," said Snake.

"Thought so," said Caraboo.

He climbed aboard the helicopter.  It immediately
lifted and was soon just a dot in the sky and then
gone entirely.


(continued next week)

Overheard:  Many American youth, leery of being
drafted if Buchenwald wins the election, are exploring
methodologies of avoiding military service.  Canada
seems to be looming as a favorite.  That's probably
because Buchenwald is using the National Guard as a
Foreign Legion.  Once, it's duties were more or less
that of stateside activities.  Now, you can get killed
in the National Guard just as if you were a soldier. 
Thus, Canada.  Of course, Mexico is another
possibility.

Did you hear that some American soldiers in Colorado
were threatened with being sent to Iraq if they didn't
reenlist?  Denver Post covered the story this past
week.  A lot of guys in the reserves are either
showing up late or not showing up at all when called
up, according to CNN Headline News, Oct. 1, 2004.  The
number mentioned as possibly AWOL was about 600!

Then, on the Worldnews channel Friday afternoon, one
of the newspersons said that authorities on the scene
in Iraq estimate more than 28,000 citizens have been
slaughtered.  The number comes home to you when you
realize that that's more than the combined populations
of Brady, TX, where I was born; Winters, TX;
Ballinger, TX; San Saba, TX, and Llano, TX, and five
or six other towns like that!  Hell, throw in Coleman,
TX.  Wimberly, TX.  Eden, TX.   Then the question
arise:  Does Buchenwald have Brady, TX, on his list?

There's a network of academics against Buchenwald.  A
friend of mine just sent me a statement of Hermann
Goering, Hitler's reich-marshal, made at the Nuremberg
trials as an indication of what the Buchenwald crowd
is doing to the American public:  "Naturally, the
common people don't want war, but after all, it is the
leaders of a country who determine the policy, and it
is always a simple matter to drag people along whether
it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a
parliament, or a communist dictatorship.  Voice or no
voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding
of the leaders.  This is easy.  All you have to do is
tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the
pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the
country to danger.  It works the same in every
country."

Sounds just a little too familiar, doesn't it?

But most interesting thing of all this past week was
an ad during "Wolf Blizer Reports" on CNN Wednesday
afternoon, Pacific Time.  The ad stated that
Buchenwald didn't start the war in Iraq.  Who in hell
did?  Poor old Bill Clinton, I suppose.  Are all
Republicans liers?  Or just Buchenwald and his
compatriots?

Another Buchenwald lie: Guy who lives near me got a
prescription from his doctor the other day.  Drug
store wanted $250 to fill the prescription.  He could
have paid it and given up eating for a couple of
weeks.  But decided he would just have to die first. 
And what did Buchenwald promise about prescriptions?  

But then, Buchenwald made a lot of promises last
election time.  Funny thing is that he's making some
of those same promises over again!  Promises he didn't
keep then and promises he has no plans to keep now. 
Buchenwald is not just a lier, he's a cottonpickin'
lier!

They reported on CNN news Friday that 100 insurgents
were killed in a gunship strike.  I wonder if the
White House considered those two dead babies as
insurgents.

Meanwhile, the number of deaths of American soldiers
and the number of maimed American soldiers continues
to grow while the great coward promises "to stay the
course"...says he will "not be intimidated."

Naturally not.

OTHER MATTERS
I suppose I should update my poem "Gone..." one of
these days.  Scott Muni just died; he was a legend on
WNEW-FM, New York, a great deal of his career.  Prior
to Scott's death, Bill Ballance, San Diego.  Bill
gained considerable renown on KGBS in Los Angeles for
his double entendres, a show actually contrived, if I
may use that word in a broader sense, by Chuck Blore. 
Bill became a master of the genre; he could walk right
up to the edge of insult and lawsuit better than
anyone I ever heard on the air.  The only thing he
ever did that I disagreed with was passing out some
nude photos of an old girlfriend; I didn't consider
that something that a gentleman would do.  Of course,
Bill was a Marine (there's no such thing as an
ex-Marine and I don't think any of those guys
qualified as gentlemen).  His greatest passion, other
than being a Marine, was a heady fascination with the
Civil War.  As for Muni, he was once told he'd never
make it as a jock in Manhattan because of his voice. 
Like a gravel truck in reverse.  The program director
that told him that--Mel Leeds, I seem to recall--was
not long for the big city himself.  Meanwhile Scott
Muni was there and stayed there, a rarity for a radio
career.  I hope the Good Lord has welcomed both men. 
I knew both well and liked them immensely.  Legends. 
Professionals at radio.

Mike Milner, milnermike2000@yahoo.com: "Before I
retired radio was my career. I never missed a Vox Jox
column and loved each and every weekly reading.  Sorry
I never took a minute to say 'thank you' for keeping
me up to date on my industry and giving me the real
story on what was happening in markets across the
country. I especially remember your features on the
big movers and shakers of the day.  I found your
website thanks to a pal who sent me a link to David
Martin's blog. I agree with Mr. Martin that you should
be in the Hall of Fame and have sent him an email
saying I am happy to help in his effort to include
you.  Thank you for your website. I really like your
fiction which is not to say I do not also enjoy your
comments.  Kind regards,  Mike Milner. Retired AFRTS."

Then, a day later, I received a note from Dave Martin
who has http://davemartin.blogspot.com:  "Enjoying
'Snake & the Spider Lady'."  Ah, my cup runneth over!

A Hall of Fame for a Hall?  Don't think that'll ever
happen, Mike.  But you made my day with the comment
about my fiction.  I walked into the living room and
told Barbara, my beautiful bride of more than 40
years, "Hey, someone is reading my novel!"  Rollye
James Cornell read the first one I ran.  Forced her
husband to also read it.  She's on my A list.  You're
right behind her, Mike!

And thank you, David Martin.

This next bit is strictly for fun, you guys and gals. 
I send my stuff for this website down each Sunday to
Larry Shannon, who has fast become a focal point in
radio and not just because of his websites,
particularly www.radiodailynews.com. "Larry, one never
finishes a piece of writing--i.e., Margaret
Mitchell--one just stops.  I plowed over the
Commentary once again this morning.  Decided, enough! 
So, it's en route. Chapter of 'Snake' to follow." 

Just FYI, my son the LA lawyer, John Alexander Hall,
told me I put the wrong date that Commentary.  I
refuse to go check.  Gah!  And once upon a time I was
so absolutely perfect!

Referring to "Snake" and Commentary, Larry Shannon,
larryshannon@radiodailynews.com: "Got 'em!  I'll post
'em today. What a coincidence.  I was just speaking
your name to a friend of mine, Norman Alden, who's in
town for a couple of days.  Norm is going to start
writing a few columns for  RadioDailyNews.com and has
his own website www.normalden.com. He started out in
radio, then went into acting.  Now, he's going to
start doing some voice work and interviews with music
people.  He was talking about Frankie Avalon.  I
mentioned  to him that you were good friends with
Bobby Vinton.  It's a small world, ain't it?"

Me:  "Larry, Poor Bobby!  For this is a problem he has
had frequently over the years...being mistaken for
Vinton. Vinton had several big records, but through
the 70s Vee had more chart action than anyone except
the Beatles and Elvis.  The Joel Whitburn book showed
this.  I don't remember knowing Vinton.  Frankie
Avalon, of course, knows Bobby Vee...they've worked
together many times.  Tell you how big Vee is.  Paul
McCartney threw a private party at the Roseland in NYC
once; he asked Vee to play the party.  Vee is one of
the nicest guys in the world.  My kids grew up with
his kids.  My wife and his wife Karen are like
sisters.  Scotty Brink is also a good friend of Bobby
Vee.  Their friendship goes back before I knew Bobby.
By the way, if you ever have a question about
something in radio, Brink probably knows.  He
surprised me once.  He knew all about something that
happened at the Century-Plaza in Los Angeles at a
convention.  And I was the one that was there! 
Amazing man! Thanks for the note."
 
Larry Shannon: "I'm sorry, I MEANT to say Bobby Vee. 
I was watching one of those 3 am infomercials for Time
Life Oldies CD's the other night that Vinton does and
had Vinton on my mind, I guess.  One of my favorite
all time songs is 'Rubber Ball'.  I dated a girl named
Barbara who I used to sing, 'Please Don't Ask About
Barbara' to.  I love the guy.  He always had that
'bounce' in his songs that made 'em great for playing
on the turntable."

Just FYI, I sent the above to Bobby Vee.  One evening
in Tulsa at a car show, Bobby performed "Lollipop" and
got three little girls to come on stage.  An audience
pleaser!  But Bobby is always doing something like
that.  At the Riviera in Las Vegas, he would toss huge
beach balls into the crowd during "Rubber Ball." 
Also, just FYI, I remember George Wilson telling me
once that he knew Bobby Vinton well.  I suppose a lot
of radio people knew artists personally.  Murray the K
told me Bobby Daren wrote "Splish, Splash" on the
piano in his living room.  I didn't know that many
recording artists personally.  I was so damned RADIO
that I hurt.  The only thing I can say on my behalf is
that I used to know quite a few people in radio.

Another just FYI:  One of the best songs Boddy Vee
ever had was, of course, "Take Good Care of My Baby." 
But I really liked some of the songs on an United
Artists album that got bolicked up in marketing and
didn't sell much.  One of the songs had a line that I
remember to this day: "Whata you mean you don't know
where you're going?  I've been following you halfway
down the road."  In another song, the lyric went: 
"Back where I started.  Back at the end of the line." 
Great album.  Pity about UA.  That was a particularly
poor time in the life of the label.

Kent Burkhart, RADIOKENT@aol.com: "Thanks for the very
nice comment in your recent Online article. As a
programmer I know who I would not have wanted to be a
competitor. And your article has given me inspiration
to compose and write about those guys/gals for
RadioDailyNews.com. You are doing a great job as
usual. Hey, I just walked in the house after running
from the most-recent hurricane. As you know I live in
South Florida on a barrier island of 10 thousand
people connected by a 8-mile causeway. Being Texas
boys you and I know what Gulf hurricanes did to Texas
on many occasions. The shift has been to Florida, I
guess. Anyway, about the only thing in the world that
frightens me is a hurricane heading in my direction. 
I leave for the hills. Thanks again, and best to
you."

Everybody!  Watch for these articles by Kent Burthart
via www.radiodailynews.com.  Larry Shannon has pulled
a coup and a half because these will more than likely
be valuable for personal entertainment as well as
academic resource for future historians of radio. 
Guarantee you!

Ah!  A clarification on Ron Fraiser,
Djfraiser@aol.com: "Actually, I'm his son. My sister
was one of the aliens though. He's at WABB in Mobile."

This was in regards to my comment a week ago regarding
Ron being in "Close Encounters" with wife and son. 
Still don't know the name of the son.  Or the
daughter.  Ron, I'm sure, mentioned the name of the
daughter.  Years and years ago!  I'll bet I even
mentioned such in Vox Jox.

You know who used to pull out a clipping from Vox Jox
to show me something I'd said about him?  Bill Drake. 
Of course, in those days it was quite often negative. 
Not easy to face a man when you've written something
negative about him.  Funny thing is that I don't
recall ever saying anything negative about Ron Jacobs.
 Maybe I did and maybe he didn't give a damned.  If I
did, he never mentioned it to me.  On the other hand,
I think Bill Drake kept those clippings in his
billfold.  I had to face them more than once.