#laurel avenue

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Most Beautiful Place On Earth

“This is the most beautiful place on earth. There are many such places. Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home, known or unknown, actual or visionary. A houseboat in Kashmir, a view down Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, a gray gothic farmhouse two stories high at the end of a red dog road in the Allegheny Mountains, a cabin on the shore of a blue lake in spruce and fir country, a greasy alley near the Hoboken waterfront, or even, possibly, for those of a less demanding sensibility, the world to be seen from a comfortable apartment high in the tender, velvety smog of Manhattan, Chicago, Paris, Tokyo, Rio or Rome - there’s no limit to the human capacity for the homing sentiment.”

Unpublished Letters by Edward Abbey

- Orion magazine

Laurel Avenue, Kane, Pa.

(by DreamingintheDeepSouth)

Together Through Time 

Places in the Heart 

[peterlorrefanpage]

Let’s find Peter Lorre!

Caricature by Al Hirschfeld (1954) for the Fifth Avenue Cinema in New York City of various Hollywood actors from the first half of the 20th century.

I do believe Peter Lorre is located in the middle of the left side, below Edward G. Robinson:

Among those pictured are:

Adolphe Menjou Alec Guinness Anna Magnani Bela Lugosi Ben Turpin Bette Davis Bing Crosby Bob Hope Boris Karloff Buster Keaton Charles Boyer Charles Laughton Charlie Chaplin Chico Marx, Groucho Marx, Harpo Marx Clara Bow Clark Gable Douglas Fairbanks Edward G Robinson Erich von Stroheim Fernandel Fred Astaire Gary Cooper George Arliss Gerard Philipe Gina Lollobrigida Gloria Swanson Greta Garbo Harold Lloyd Harold Lloyd Hedy Lamarr Ingrid Bergman Jean Gabin Jean Harlow Jimmy Durante Joan Crawford John Gilbert Judy Garland Katharine Hepburn Laurence Olivier Lillian Gish and Dorothy Gish Lionel Barrymore Lon Chaney Louis Jouvet Mae West Marie Dressler Marilyn Monroe Marlene Dietrich Mary Pickford Maurice Chevalier Michel Simon Michele Morgan Mickey Mouse Mickey Rooney Myrna Loy Norma Shearer Orson Welles Peter Lorre Raimu Rita Hayworth Rudolph Valentino Shirley Temple Spencer Tracy Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy Stepin Fetchit Theda Bara Vivien Leigh Wallace Beery Warner Oland WC Fields William Powell William S Hart

Have some more Hirschfeld - Peter Lorre caricatures:

Peter Lorre in "Crime and Punishment," drawn June 1936

Peter Lorre in "M", 4/9/33

Peter Lorre & pals in the "You'll Find Out" trade ad, 1940

[setra-studies]

heyyy, since you said youd like to tell me more about that japanese occupation thing, i am here requesting anything else about it just cuz you seem to have lots of fun explaining it!! :3

1940s : a filipino perspective

∘₊✧ ─── • ✧ • ───✧ ₊∘

oh my god !!!

thank you SO much for this ask!!!

alr alr i'll actually get started now

TWS: blood, war, injury, bombings, rape, murder, general war-crime stuff, HEAVY torture

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 1941: the start of fear

japan, aspiring to unite the countries in asia into the greater east asia co-prosperity sphere, called GEACOPS for short, had occupied manchuria already by the 1940s, and the philippines was the next thing japan wanted.

but the philippines was already occupied and colonized by the americans -- so this lead to the famous bombing of pearl harbour on december 7, 1941. in my textbook, here's an excerpt of the news in the honolulu star bulletin:

this was very strategic, as this was the largest american military base in the pacific, therefore cancelling out america disrupting japan's takeover as they were recovering from the bombing.

USAFFE (united states armed forces in the far east) were an army of filipino and american soldiers organized by general douglas macarthur, but were no match for the japanese forces. marching from north and southeast, the japanese moved toward manila and occupied the city.

an account of the pearl harbour bombing in the philippines by lourdes reyes montinola states:

on december 8, 1941, feast of the immaculate conception, we were on our way to church when news of the bombing of pearl harbour came. that same evening, a piercing siren warned us of an aerial attack--the first of a hundred we were to experience. we crouched in fear as the enemy dropped the first bombs, and our defenders fired anti-aircraft guns . . .

we remained unaware of impending tragedy until the day manila was declared an open city. we did not realize how bad things were going to be until we saw enemy soldiers carrying white flags with the red sun slowl passing through taft avenue . . . soon after, our house was commandeered by the japanese as were many other residences on vito cruz and taft avenue . . .

general macarthur declared manila an open city on december 26, 1941, which means it has been abandoned by its defenders. the japanese invaders, however, continued bombing, until vital installations and buildings of manila were gone. on new year's day 1941, USAFFE retreated into the hills and forest of bataan in the west, foreshadowing an even which will eventually be called the most inhuman atrocity in world war ii -- the bataan death march.

in the afternoon before christmas day, december 24, 1941 amid heavy bombings in the city the national government headed by quezon* and osmeña* were evacuated to the island fortress of corregidor. secretary of justice jose abad santos, general basilio valdes, and colonel manuel nieto were with them. manila was left under the care of jose p. laurel, the acting chief justice and the city mayor, jorge vargas. at the malinta tunnel in corregidor, quezon and osmeña took their oath for their second term as president and vice president of the philippine commonwealth*. after a few days the group left for australia and then for the united states.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ surrender and the open city

moving on to the horrific death march in bataan, soldiers were imprisoned by the japanese. but with no provisions, they were then ordered to walk to camp o'donnel, a concetration camp in capas, tarlac, and their march reached a whopping total of 126 kilometers.

but before that could happen, first, on april 9th, 1942, the 75,000 strong USAFFE soldiers in bataan laid down their arms, surrendering to the japanese. may 6th, 1942, the last remaining stronghold, corregidor, was also surrendered by general wainwright.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ the horrors of bataan

to understand the terrible nature of this event, you must understand that no one had water. no one had food. no town could offer the dehydrated, starving filipino and american soldiers food or water or risk being beat by the japanese. escape was impossible, as the japanese shot down whoever attempted to do so. not even dirty canals or wells were available to men for drinking water. the dead were left to grow hot in the sun by the roadside, and if you were nearly dead the japanese would just shoot you and end it already. watches, rings, fountain pens, everything was looted by the japanese soldiers from the USAFFE men.

of the group that started in bataan, 10,000 died. more died in the concentration camp.

from san fernando, surviving prisoners were densely packed into boxcars with no ventilation and brought to capas. as the trains moved to their location under the hot sun, the boxcars became ovens that cooked the men inside alive.

six kilometers were left after their trip, that were once again agonisingly walked by the soldiers. 15,000 died of hunger, malaria, diarrhea, and more executions. a war veteran by name of quirico v. cadang shares his experience in his memoirs:

the earlier mentioned jose p laurel now acted as president of what is called the puppet government -- named after the japanese's puppetry of the new president. laurel was actually doing well in regards to running the country and reducing harm done, and allowed philippine history to finally be taught in schools. this government, the japanese-sponsored republic, was inaugurated on october 13, 1942.

beheadings, cutting of throats, and casual shootings were the more common actions of japanese war atrocities--compared to instances of bayonet stabbing, rape, disembowelment, rifle butt beating and a deliberate refusal to allow the prisoners food or water while keeping them continually marching in tropical heat. falling down or inability to continue moving was tantamount to a death sentence, as was any degree of protest.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ the state of the government

economy was at an all time low during the occupation -- food and water scarce, as money was used to repair bombed buildings and such. prices soared in result.

the japanese kempeitai raided houses with unregistered radios, whos owners were then imprisoned in fort santiago, and inhuman punishments were meted out to them as a daily exercise.

failing to bow to the japanese sentries stationed at street corners resulted in harm to whoever had done so -- but that was not the main source of fear. the spy was.

filipinos could also be spies for the japanese -- called the makapili (literally meaning "choosy" or "the one who chooses"). he was to identify rebels (called guerrillas) and those identified would become targets and would be executed accordingly.

many years after the war, the abuses done to filipino women came to light. the "comfort women" were used to relieve soldier's sexual urges, and were often gathered into houses, even schools to be raped over and over every day. the infamous pulang bahay (red house) is the most well known place where this happened.

remedios fellas, 72, presented her story in a book entitled "the hidden battle of leyte: the picture diary of a girl taken by the japanese military." i will not describe anything in the book, as i deem it perhaps too graphic for this blog and i don't want people to get scared off. but i will say that stories like these were truly horrible, and no woman should ever suffer like this as spoil of war ever again.

by 1945, the americans were ready to return. after a bit of island-hopping (and subsequent victories), the leyte gulf war commensed. the american fleet, composed of 650 ships and 4 army divisions, cleared the area and subdued the japanese troops. from october 24 to 26, the battle for leyte gulf took place. the battle at surigao strait ended with the japanese annahilated. the battle of samar, after an endless day of fire and shooting, the americans had the upper hand. leyte, liberated on october 26th, 1945, was now the temporary capital.

the guerrilla / resistance movement was the main source of rebellion, monitoring enemy activity and reporting to general macarthur, to carry out assaults against the japanese military, and to kill japanese sympathizers and spies.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ freedom in reach

manila's liberation finally took place on january 9th, 1946, as the americans surprised the japanese with a landing of troops in lingayen gulf. on february 3, the troops entered manila. freeing prisoners, over 1000 were saved from the bilibid prisons -- and these prisoners were those of bataan and corregidor.

seeing the futility of their situation, the japanese committed a final horror before the battle begun -- the manila massacre. violent mutilations, rapes, and murders took place. filipinos were gathered into houses to be shot or burned down, and women were mass raped. a japanese battalion order dates february 13th reads:

when filipinos are to be killed they must be gathered in one place and disposed of with the consideration that ammunition and manpower must not be used to excess. because the disposal is a troublesome task they should be gathered into houses scheduled to be burned or demolished. they should also be thrown into the river.

about 100,000 of the one million residents in manila died in the absolute massacre. 1,000+ us soldiers were also part of the casualties while 5,565 were wounded. 16,000 japanese soldiers died as well, mostly sailors. the battle of manila was recorded as the fiercest urban fighting in the entire pacific war.

when in class, we watched a video of this massacre -- manila was gone. razed to the ground. on february 23rd -- my own birthday -- the fighting stopped. buildings gone. ground dirty with blood of filipinos, americans and japanese alike. the past six years culminated into a battle of the greatest intensity, and it ended in a city destroyed completely. the beauty of manila nowhere to be seen, the filipinos won back their independence at a cost too heavy to carry.

in malacañang palace, macarthur gathered the filipino leaders, finally declaring a statement that brought joy to the nation, that allowed the deaths of thousands of rebels to have come to use:

my country has kept the faith. your capital city, cruelly punished though it be, has regained its rightful place--citadel of democracy in the east.

∘₊✧ ─── • ✧ • ───✧ ₊∘

thank you for reading. feel free to request other historical events.

if you read through this and feel very traumatized, play tetris. you'll likely forget most of the traumatizing details. i apologize in advance.

[deadpresidents]

Was Trump's assassination attempt the first time people other than the president were also killed or hurt?

No, it definitely was not the first time. There have been a number of additional victims during Presidential assassinations or assassination attempts throughout American history.

Here are the incidents where someone other than the President was wounded in an assassination attempt on Presidents or Presidential candidates:

•April 14, 1865, Washington, D.C. At the same time that John Wilkes Booth was shooting Abraham Lincoln at Ford's Theatre, Booth's fellow conspirator, Lewis Powell, attacked Secretary of State William H. Seward at Seward's home in Washington. Seward had been injured earlier that month in a carriage accident and was bedridden from his injuries, and Powell viciously stabbed the Secretary of State after forcing his way into Seward's home by pretending to deliver medicine. Powell also attacked two of Seward's sons, a male nurse from the Army who was helping to care for Seward, and a messenger from the State Department. Another Booth conspirator, George Azterodt, was supposed to kill Vice President Andrew Johnson at the same time that Lincoln and Seward were being attacked in an attempt to decapitate the senior leadership of the Union government, but Azterodt lost his nerve and got drunk instead. A total of five people were wounded at the Seward home as part of the Booth conspiracy, but Lincoln was the only person who was killed.

•February 15, 1933, Miami, Florida Just 17 days before his first inauguration, President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt was the target of an assassination attempt in Miami's Bayfront Park. Giuseppe Zangara fired five shots at Roosevelt as FDR was speaking from an open car. Roosevelt was not injured, but all five bullets hit people in the crowd, including Chicago Mayor Anton Cermak who was in the car with FDR. Roosevelt may have been saved by a woman in the crowd who hit Zangara's arm with her purse as she noticed he was aiming his gun at the President-elect and caused him to shoot wildly. Mayor Cermak was gravely wounded and immediately rushed to a Miami hospital where he died about two weeks later.

•November 1, 1950, Blair House, Washington, D.C. From 1949-1952, the White House was being extensively renovated with the interior being almost completely gutted and reconstructed. President Harry S. Truman and his family moved into Blair House, a Presidential guest house across the street from the White House that is normally used for visiting VIPs, for 3 1/2 years. On November 1, 1950 two Puerto Rican nationalists, Griselio Torresola and Oscar Collazo, tried to shoot their way into Blair House and attempt to kill President Truman, who was upstairs (reportedly napping) at the time. A wild shootout ensued on Pennsylvania Avenue, leaving White House Police Officer Leslie Coffelt and Torresola dead, and Collazo and two other White House Police Officers wounded.

•November 22, 1963, Dallas, Texas Texas Governor John Connally was severely wounded after being shot while riding in the open limousine with President John F. Kennedy when JFK was assassinated.

•June 5, 1968, Ambassador Hotel, Los Angeles, California When he finished delivering a victory speech after winning California's Democratic Presidential primary, Senator Robert F. Kennedy of New York was shot several times while walking through the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel. While RFK was mortally wounded and would die a little over a day later, five other people were also wounded in the shooting.

•May 15, 1972, Laurel, Maryland Segregationist Alabama Governor George Wallace was paralyzed from the waist down after being shot by Arthur Bremer at a campaign rally when he was running for the Democratic Presidential nomination. Three bystanders were also wounded in the shooting, but survived.

•September 22, 1975, San Francisco, California A taxi driver in San Francisco was wounded when Sara Jane Moore attempted to shoot President Gerald Ford as he left the St. Francis Hotel. Moore's first shot missed the President by several inches and the second shot, which hit the taxi driver, was altered when a Vietnam veteran in the crowd named Oliver Sipple grabbed her arm as she was firing. Just 17 days earlier and 90 miles away, Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme, a member of the Charles Manson family, had tried to shoot President Ford as he walked through Capitol Park in Sacramento but nobody was injured.

•March 30, 1981, Washington, D.C. President Ronald Reagan was shot and seriously wounded by as he left the Washington Hilton after giving a speech. Three other people were wounded in the shooting, including White House Press Secretary James Brady who was shot in the head and partially paralyzed, Washington D.C. Police Office Thomas Delahanty, and Secret Service agent Tim McCarthy. Video of the assassination attempt shows that when the shots were fired, McCarthy turned and made himself a bigger target in order to shield the President with his own body. President Reagan was struck by a bullet that ricocheted off of the Presidential limousine.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

is robron the albatross around their neck? they want the hype they had 10 years ago but they don't know what to do with aaron...

That definitely seems like somewhat of the case and while obviously it was peak Emmerdale for me and for much of the fandom, it's not like they don't have....options.

If they stopped using their terrible crutch of creating convoluted backstories for new characters as a short cut to actual on screen development and stopped just shoving couples together with no consideration or proper story, they might actually get somewhere with some of their pairings.

I mean first of all, if they wanted to, it's not THAT hard to allow Aaron to properly move on into a solid new relationship. They just need to stop going through so much weird effort to create the absolute worst character for him to date and then not bothering to find an actor that actually works well with Danny. Like there was no reason for him to date someone he bullied as a kid. There was no reason for him to date Robert's long lost gay half brother. You have to work to be that bad.

All they need to do is bring in a new character that's not connected to Aaron, let him be a real character first and then let him interact with Aaron and build something from there. Sure, the diehard Robron fans are never going to be on board and that's fine, you're not trying to reach them. You want the people who love Aaron, the people who enjoyed Robron but are still watching the show and want to see Aaron do...something and have a decent story. You want the people that missed the robron era but are still looking for queer representation or just a good ship in general. You can tell a story for those people but you have to actually tell a decent story. And thus far they absolutely have not but it just isn't that hard.

And while yes, they've refused to let Aaron fully move on from Robert because they like using it for hype, they probably could have one more shot at doing it properly without all of this carrot dangling weirdness that never gets fulfilled. They could just let him say he's always going to love Robert but he has to move on and live his life but have him say it in the context of a new relationship. And then you're done, you can move on. Not that hard.

In terms of hype for new relationships though, it doesn't have to be with Aaron. They've had so many opportunities to build new couples and they just fail every time.

Seemingly, they could put Vanity back together at this point. I did see someone somewhere say something about Emma wanting to take a year off so I don't know maybe they're using Ross to break up her and Mack so she can take a break. Who knows. But if not, then there's just no reason they shouldn't have put Vanessa and Charity back together after Charity broke up with Mack after all of the Chloe stuff.

And if not them, Mary and Suzy were right there. People were interested in that. And they just...didn't do it. And stuck Suzy back with Vanessa and then have done absolutely nothing with them.

And then if we go back further, people were super excited for Arthur and Marshall and they just squandered all of that potential by making the story all about Laurel. That was so strange.

But now they've got Arthur back and he doesn't have to go disappear for exams anymore. They could tell a proper relationship story for him.

They had Nicky and Suni and there was interest there and yet they did so much nothing with them that the actors just got bored and left.

It was the same story with Marcus and Ethan.

And if we circle back to Aaron, as much as I know people who would hate it, there's genuine interest in a Mack/Aaron fling relationship. They didn't plan it but people were shipping it, they still do. If they actually bothered to pay attention to public opinion even a little, they might see that pairing as a worthwhile avenue.

And it's not just the queer couples. As much as everyone has hated Chas for years now, people seem genuinely interested in her and Liam getting together but they keep ruining it with Ella who to me is a waste of a character and if they ever do properly get them together, it will probably have taken too long and people won't care anymore.

Sure they can't listen to every viewer or every complaint etc, but if they want to get people excited for a couple, they have to listen to what they want.

They also have to actually learn how to tell a coherent relationship story and that includes showing why they actually like each other. That includes showing them interacting and building that interest they have for each other. They can't just shove people together, explain their connection through convoluted backstory and let all of their relationship development happen off screen and expect people to get excited.

Sigh...

[rom-e-o]

"Amusing" (Orin/Constance - Sneak Peek)

Why is he like this?

November, 1830

5th Avenue

New York

The sitting room of the multi-story Spiegler townhome on 5th Avenue was drenched in firelight and smelled of cinnamon potpourri, but not an ounce of merriment or cheer could be distilled from its fragrant atmosphere. Instead, the manor’s Green Drawing-Room was engorged with a heavily pregnant silence, broken only by the sound of hissing firewood slowly burning away in the hearth.

The room had earned its affectionate yet telling moniker from its décor and choice of wallpaper – a green paper of an emerald sheen with a vertical pattern of coiling ivy vines. The furniture was also smocked in thick velvet, which was set primly along the sets and backs of all the room’s carved oak chairs. The drapes were a matching shade of lush green, as vibrant as the full leaves of an oleander. Even the hooked rug that was spread across the buttery walnut floor stole inspiration from the color. The pattern highlighted two adult swans afloat on a sea of white, both angelic creatures wreathed in pink roses and intertwined laurels.

One chair, which was completely upholstered and adorned with gold tassels for added comfort, was occupied. Its resident for the evening was Orin Spiegler, the master of the manor, who reclined back in the fabric’s rich confines. In one hand, his held open a folded edition of the evening paper. In the other, he lightly swirled a short glass of honey-brown scotch. With his dressing gown synched tightly about his waist and his white ruffled collar fluffing outward from between the lapels, he looked more like a peacock than the esteemed, Dutch-American investor and businessman the local newspapers now described. The man had made a name for himself with his Wall Street trading strategies, and his smart investments in cheap buildings on the outskirts of the New York city limits, mostly along the waning avenues beyond Albany. As the city grew, the properties quadrupled in value annually, or sometimes even monthly. He was a certified millionaire, and his coffers were expanding daily.

It was a good start, he thought, but not yet enough for comfort. Not for him.

Most recently, Mr. Spiegler had commanded his financial agents to also bring his investment opportunities for the multitude of bigger and better steamboats being developed for traveling the Hudson. Much had changed with designer Robert Fulton had said the inaugural vessel in 1807, and as New York continued its sprawl up and down the river, he intended to make sure he was one of the many investors that would reap a benefit from the new technology. Besides, not just New Yorkers benefited from the technology. Every traveler from Philadelphia, Greenwich or Vermont would be in his metaphorical debt. Hell, even Londoners and Danes were utilizing the vessels for visits to the quickly growing city.

On a settee just opposite the fireplace was another lonely individual. This woman, donned in a striking green dress with lace the color of American buttercream, was the lovely and copper-headed Mrs. Spiegler.

Unlike her husband, her focus was trained reading and rereading her own written words. Quill in hand, she carefully penned invitations on solid white paper, the corners of the expensive parchment adorned with a flourishing ‘OS’ in evergreen ink.

Orin glanced over to observe his wife at work, noting her upright rectitude with a satisfied arch of his brown. “And what, pray tell, has captured your focus so keenly?”

Starting slightly at his interruption, Constance turned to meet his gaze, then quickly recovered and smiled. “Oh. I was penning the invitations for that party we were discussing earlier. The one to showcase our new music room. You still wanted to host a gathering, didn’t you, dear?”

“Ah, yes,” he said, satisfied with her answer. “Who are you planning on inviting? I don’t believe we finalized any guest list.”

“We did not,” she admitted, moistening her lips, “But I believe you’ll be satisfied. I’m sending summons to the Van Rensselaers up river, as well as the Livingstons and the Schuylers, of course.”

“Very good.” The Van Rensselaers, Schuylers, and Livingstons were all prominent families of Dutch ancestry, and longstanding patroons with sprawling tenant farms along the Hudson River. The last Orin has heard, Rensselaerwyck had reached a million acres in size, and was home to at least 200 farmer families. Some farmers were German, others were Irish, and some were ‘Yankees’ of no other known pedigree. While there was slight variance between the farmers, they shared the collective burden of toiling the land of their master, paying monthly rent as a share of crops to the Lord of the Manor.

“I suspect we’ll have no trouble getting them to come to the city, Constance said. “The last time we hosted, they adored our home.”

“They were excited to escape their tenants for a night or two, I presume.”

The tenant farmers were becoming rambunctious, and there were murmurings of a rebellion on the horizon. Slavery has been officially abolished in New York in 1827, and now, eyes were turned to the patroons and their tenant farmers.

What had these patroons expected, he wondered? To carry on forever with locking families into generation of servitude while Yankees and abolitionists just conveniently ignored them? Orin had seen the writing on the wall for years, and as the Anti-Rent movement began to grow, he only felt vindication.

 The old money has-beens would be out the door in a few decades of new marriages. Perhaps some would even move out West, to a land of burgeoning opportunity.

In the meantime, he reasoned, it certainly didn’t hurt to rub elbows with his fellow countrymen. The task was made all the easier by how charming Constance was when it came to hosting and party-planning.

“Shall I … invite the Patersons, Orin?” Constance inquired with a tilt of the head.

He hummed in though, sipping his drink elegantly.

Stephen Van Rensselaer III was the current Lord of the Manor at Renssalaerwyck. He had previously married Margarita "Peggy" Schuyler, who had passed early in 1801. After the customary one year of morning for a gentleman, he married Cornelia Bell Paterson, child of statesman William Paterson. Orin knew little of the man and his legacy, other than he was a jurist and one of the men who had signed the United States Constitution.

He was also an Irishman turned American who mostly fancied New Jersey, so Orin mostly wrote him off.

“Invite Mr. and Mrs. Van Renssalaer, of course,” he said, “That’s all. Our manor isn’t so large that we can invite every admirer we have. Yet.”

“Yes.” She scrawled a note down.

The horrible complexity of the family trees was another reason he was glad to only know these sprawling families by association. He so loathed the idea of being tethered to large, overbearing legacies. Too much family was a curs eon one’s patience and time, he thought. Too many mouths to feed.

“I’m also extending an invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Van Cortlandt.”

Among the Van Cortlandt family tree were also members of the Van Rensselaer family, Schuyler family, and Livingston family. They also had ties to Philipse family, the De Peyster family, and the Irish-born and -bred Gage family.

Also spotted along their impressive family tree were relations to the Jay family. One of its many heirs, John Jay, had gone on to become the first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and one of the country’s ‘Founding Fathers.’

When holding a soiree, it was necessary to invite all the influential families, for to insult one was to insult all of them.

“Very good,” Orin said, pleased with his wife’s attention to detail. “You were correct, my dear. I am more than satisfied with your diligence.”

It was no surprise that Constance was so aware of New York’s finest political families. After all, she was a DoGoode. While only one generation deep, the family had set the bar for new money intrigue in New York. Arthur DoGoode, Constance’s father, had started life as a mute bookkeeper but had quickly risen through the ranks as a sensible businessman. His body was frail, but his intelligence was so keen that he didn’t need spoken words to seal deals. Like Orin, he was a property investor, but Orin would never admit that it was Arthur’s business strategies that inspired his own investment patterns. Theresea, Constance’s mother, had moved to New York from Marrakech.

In 1777, Morocco had been one of the first states to recognize the sovereignty of a newly independent United States. That independence from European pressures was something Theresea admired. She had seen France, Spain and Germany all encroach on her country, eyeing the land with salivating mouths and greedy eyes. So, with a heavy heart, she left the city of Marrakech for New York.

She and Arthur had met at a business convention in Albany, where the doorman had barred her from entering. Woman were not allowed in the hall, they’d said, unless accompanied by a proper chaperone. Theresea had debated the man into a state of near emotional breakdown when Arthur had spotted her.

He asked her to be his voice at the meetings – his ‘interpreter’, so to speak. Arthur penned the business strategies, and Theresea gave the pitches to rooms of investors, bankers, financial agents, and more.

The two were married a year later. It had been a union of love, not political gambit, for they were two nobodies in a sea of millions. That, however, changed quickly. New York was growing, and Arthur invested in fringe properties to develop safehouses for women and orphanages for children.

Later that same year, they even adopted a two-year-old child that has been left at the Albany orphanage the two were on the Board of Directors for. A little red-headed girl too taciturn and terrified to speak.

Now, that girl was a woman, and also his wife.

Constance penned a few more notes while they spoke. “Darling, but also had a mind to invite Martin, if you think he could spare the time. It’s been so long.”

“Ah, Martin!” Orin cried, laughing at the mention of the man’s name. “Why, that is a capital idea!” He snapped and pointed a commanding finger at her. “Write him at once. Set the party’s date for December 22 as well. That will give our guests time to travel, but with ample courtesy for any Christmastime plans.”

Martin Van Buren, another New Yorker of fine Dutch stock, was someone Orin knew by association. They’d attended a small myriad of soirees together in the past year as Orin’s infamy had earned him. There were rumblings that Andrew Jackson was planning to support him for the next presidential election.

If elected, the Dutch colonies of New York would surely endorse him and throw any and all support his way to guarantee victory. He imagined the gaiety that such an election result would cause, and wondered how the anti-renters would take such a victory.

Only time could tell, he supposed.

He polished the glass of scotch with a final swig, wiping his mouth and setting the glass aside on a marbled end table.

“I’m going to my study,” he said, gesturing to the hallway beyond the door.

“Oh. More work?” Constance asked, brows furrowing. Here eyes drifted from his face to the empty drinking glass.

“Not precisely.”

Orin’s study was located at the top of a turret that adorned the front of their townhome. The addition made their luxurious home stand out even more amidst the other rowhouses that lined the stylish thoroughfare through the city. It’s large windows also faced the street, providing him a clean visual of the street’s traffic, potential callers, etcetera.

As he rose and walked past her, he laid a large hand on her shoulder. The contact froze her thoughts, her quill stilling mod-word against the parchment.

“You’ve pleased me tonight,” he noted in a caramel-sweet tone. “I’ll leave you be for the rest of the evening.”

He then walked to the door, glimpsing at the grandfather clock as he did so. A quarter past ten, the hands read.

“I’ll slumber on my day bed in my study,” he said, voice returning to the cool formality she’d come to expect. “I depart for the Catskills at dawn. There is a new steamboat making its maiden voyage. The SS Juno. As one of the primary investors, it is expected that I be there. I wouldn’t wish to disturb you by stirring so early. Heaven knows you’re clumsy enough in the mornings when we have nowhere to go, and I wouldn’t wish to be late because of you prattling about.”

Still enthused by the fact that they wouldn’t be sharing a bed that night, his insults went unnoticed. Instead, she disguised her relief with a thankful smile. “I’ll see that coffee is ready for you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Otherwise, you’re dismissed. Spend the rest of your night as you’d like. Just make sure those invitations are written and postmarked tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Good woman.”

Just as he was about to pass through the door, he paused again. “A moment. Come here, please. And bring me one of the candles.”

Smoothing her skirts, she rose and drifted across the room to meet him.

She grabbed a chinoiserie candle holder containing one green, swirled tapered candle and lofted it to her eyes. She crossed the room and extended the holder carefully to him, being mindful of the flame. Orin accepted the offering, and before she could move away, reached out with his other hand to grab her wrist. He jerked her into a sudden kiss, smirking as he felt her heart roar to life beneath her heavy bosom.

Just as he felt her lean into him, seeking warmth or perhaps a passionate embrace, he nudged her back and away. As always, she obeyed.

“You’re relieved to not share a bed with me, but you still turn into a simpering little maiden with just one kiss? How amusing.”

He left her with a smirk, his dark eyes flashing with the swish of his head as he turned on his heel. “I’ll return in three days. Have the house ready in anticipation of my return. I’ll want to supper immediately.”

The heavy oak door shut before she had time to formulate a reply. She stood frozen, her lips still warmed from his kiss, her rouge slightly smeared from the sudden brush. Trembling fingers caressed the flesh before she sighed, hands falling heavy at her sides.

Even after years of marriage, she didn’t understand her husband at all. He’d never acted so unpredictable during their courtship. Why in the world did he conduct himself in such a way around her? Had she done something wrong?

Alone in the drawing room, she took it upon herself to close the curtains and set the shutters as best she could. It was work mostly suited for a strong footman, but she tried her best to make any work a little easier. Besides, the light work kept her hands and mind busy, and helped siphon out the anxious little ball of energy that had started buzzing in her chest at Orin’s words.

Had she … really been so apparent with her distaste? No wonder he was cross with her, the woman concluded. She’d offended him – her own husband. What a sorry excuse for a wife she was.

In her frustration, she grabbed the poker and stabbed it into the hearth. The fire-laden log crumbled with a hiss, and cinders as large as red flies flew into the air. She jumped back in surprise, dropping the poker and shrinking away from the flames. Her skirts knocked over a chair as she did so. The large piece of furniture lay on its side and cast a menacing shadow across the expanse of the room. It’s sharp angles and points flickered menacingly against the wallpaper with every dance of the flames.

Embarrassed at her incompetence, Constance rushed to the bellpull and gave it a brisk tug. Minutes later, she was greeted at the door by a young butler and young maid, both employed by the couple. The two were siblings – Mary and Micah. Two intelligent, quick-witted souls fresh off the boat from the Fenlands.

“We heard a crash!” the young maid said, breathless from how quickly she’d come running.

Micah looked the frazzled redhead up and down. His knowing eyes peered from beneath a shag of sandy hair. “Are you well, Mrs. Spiegler?”

His tone was practically conspiratorial.

“Please extinguish the fire,” Constance said, disregarding Mary’s question with a flustered wave of the hand. She then allowed her eyes to fall against her trembling calm as she gathered her wits. “A-And if you could check my work on fastening the windows, Micah, I would be most thankful. You are much stronger, and less clumsy, than I.”

The maid curtseyed and obeyed the lady’s commands, while the butler made a beeline for the windows. “Yes, your ladyship.”

Just as he went to straighten the toppled chair and retrieved the empty drinking glass, Constance left the room and made her way quickly up the stairs and to the main bedroom. She took the stairs quickly, her kid slippers soundless as they fell frantically against the plush rugs of the hall.

Mary hastily finished her work at the fireplace and trailed after her mistress, making sure to grab the abandoned letters on her way out.

I'm sure they'll work everything out.

[slackville-records]

Joni Mitchell at home on Lookout Mountain Avenue, in Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles, 1970.

Joni bought the little house at 8217 Lookout Mountain in the Spring of 1968 with the royalties from her first album, SONG TO A SEAGULL. She met Graham Nash, who was visiting from the UK with his band, The Hollies, shortly after she purchased it, and by July they were living there together. Joni's house soon became THE place where Laurel Canyon-dwelling musicians hung out (when David Crosby and Stephen Stills dropped by one night, Crosby, Stills and Nash was born.)

Photo by Henry Diltz Photography

[popentertainment-interviews]

Michael Connelly and Alison Ellwood

Return to Wonderland

by Jay S. Jacobs

Hollywood was a pretty wild place in the early 1980s; a mixture of glitz, glamour and seediness, aging stars and young up-and-comers, gorgeous homes and run-down hoods, big business and small-time crime, nature, shopping and lots and lots of drugs.

On July 1, 1981, four people were found violently executed in a house on Wonderland Avenue in the beautiful Laurel Canyon section of LA. This mystery has long fascinated Angelinos and true-crime buffs. Barbara Richardson, Ron Launius, Joy Miller and Billy DeVerell were killed in the home invasion, with Lanius’ wife Susan Launius surviving with serious injuries.

While since early on the responsibility for the crimes has been attached to LA nightclub owner and gangster Eddie Nash as retribution to Ron Lanius and DeVerell taking part in a robbery of Nash’s home, no one has ever been successfully charged with the murders. However, the events had tendrils which reached way out into Hollywood, ensnaring porn star John Holmes and Vegas icon Liberace, and even lightly brushing upon such 1980s superstars as John Belushi, Richard Pryor and Michael Jackson.

The Liberace, Belushi, Pryor and Jackson connections mostly came through witness Scott Thorson, Liberace’s former companion (he wrote the book Behind the Candelabra) turned drug dealer. Thorson is an infamously unreliable storyteller (he is referred to as an “enigma” in the series), however, it seems that he has mostly told the truth about the goings-on at Wonderland.  

Crime novelist Michael Connelly (the Harry Bosch books and The Lincoln Lawyer) has long had a fascination with the case, going back to his days as a crime reporter at The Los Angeles Times. He also lived right around the corner from the crime scene for much of the 1990s. His fascination led to his 2021 podcast on the crime, “The Wonderland Murders & the Secret History of Hollywood.” The podcast was such a success that it has been turned into a TV series to stream on MGM+.

A few years after we spoke with the novelist about the podcast, we checked back in with Connelly and series director Alison Ellwood to discuss the TV series version of The Wonderland Massacre & the Secret History of Hollywood.

Michael, you did a podcast on the case a few years ago. Why did the two of you think that it would make for an intriguing TV series?

Michael Connelly: I thought there'd be some pretty good archival stuff. I had some of that, but obviously I only had the audio of it for the podcast. I didn't know the wealth of stuff that Alison would find, going all the way back to Eddie Nash being on TV. That was something I was hoping for. That would be a reason to go from podcast to documentary. That idea, or that hope, paid off in much bigger ways than I even expected. I think that's a really big part of what keeps this series compelling.

Alison, what was it that interested you about making this a series?

Alison Ellwood: I had just finished doing the Laurel Canyon music series, and that was this beautiful place with these musicians and all this amazing music. By the time this story happens, it's like the negative image of what had become of this place: houses with artists creating music could become dens of drug thieves. That noirish turn in a place was what compelled me about it, plus getting to work with Michael. I'm a big fan of his books.

Scott Thorson died a couple weeks ago. He was a huge part of the show, and the series is dedicated to him. However, you always referred to him as “an enigma” and “an unreliable narrator.” He has told many stories of the Wonderland Massacre, and many seem to check out, but you never know for sure with him. He even said in your last interview that he was working on a book on the case, which will probably never see the light of day. How much of the story do you think he took to the grave with him, or do you think he shared most of what he knew?

Michael Connelly: I think he shared probably 90% of it, but he always inferred – we didn't put this in podcast or the show – he always inferred that if push came to shove, he would name other people that were there that night. That were dispatched to Wonderland to exact Eddie Nash's revenge. He was scared of these people, and said they were still alive. Whether that was baiting or exaggeration, I don't really know, but I'm pretty sure he took some stuff with him, and I don't think we'll ever be able to dig that out.

Alison Ellwood: I don't think he could know for sure, too. He said he suspected who met them at the house, but he didn't personally witness that.

A lot of other people also have gone to the grave since, people like Johnny Holmes and Greg Iles. Why do you think that Eddie Nash had that kind of effect on people that they were just so afraid to talk, no matter what happened?

Alison Ellwood: Well, look at what he did at Wonderland. I mean, it was brutal. They were terrified of it. They were all addicted to drugs too. He had that hold over them as well.

Michael Connelly: Yeah, it was money and drugs. It was obviously a key way of controlling people. And indications are that he had tentacles into power structures in Los Angeles, through payoffs and bribes and things like that. So, whether he really had it as wired as it appeared is one thing, but if people of that time believed it, they were going to stay in line. I think over the years that what happened at Wonderland served him well as being the scary figure that you don't cross.

The killings are in this weird netherworld of crime because it's officially still an open case after all these years, although everyone pretty much agrees they know the who, the why and what happened. Eddie Nash did end up spending a little time in jail on RICOH charges, but not nearly as much as he probably should have for what he did. Do you think that the fact that justice was never quite served makes this story even more interesting and more sordid?

Alison Ellwood: Yeah, absolutely. I mean, you can see it in the detectives, the frustration and frankly, anger. They feel they had it. They had all the pieces. Everything was in place, and just one thing after another, the rug would get pulled out from under them.

Michael Connelly: That's my connection to the case, because I spend a lot of time with detectives to inspire and research the books I write. All the detectives in this story I've known for a while, long before I decided to do a podcast or a documentary series. This is the one that really sticks with them. As you say, it's unrequited justice. Sometimes some people were brought before the courts, publicly and so forth, but at the end of the day, X number of people went in that house and brutally killed four people. Every person that went in there, no matter how many it was – whether there was two, three or four – none of them served any time for what they did. That's why it's still open. Probably will always be open. You never know, this documentary series could spawn something, but at the end of the day, it's a story of unrequited justice, and that makes it pretty interesting.

As a novelist, you say in the series, you couldn’t get away with writing many of the things which happen in real life. What are some of the things that really happened here that if you were writing fiction, you would feel you could never get away with?

Michael Connelly: Just the idea of this guy who was appearing on Las Vegas stages with Liberace becomes at the center of this drug kingdom. Just the idea that a guy that's delivered to witness protection ends up on The 700 Club as a TV evangelist. Put that in a book and see what your editor says. I love the little story about how they were ahead of the wave of law enforcement with crack cocaine, where Thorson got pulled over, they found a baseball sized ball of crack, and the cops didn't even know what it was. They just tossed it on the hood of the car and then let him go about his way when he said it was a toy that his brother's kid used, or something like that. Just little things that have the ring of truth to them because they are outrageous. “When you write a crime novel, you have to be more real than real,” is one of the things that my editor told me once a long time ago. I would always seed my books with little anecdotes that I know are true, but they just seemed unbelievable. This case is full of them.

Alison Ellwood: Yeah, and Scott's claims just become more and more fantastical as it goes on. But they actually proved to be vetted out, so….

Alison as a filmmaker, was it fun and/or difficult to track down and go through all the footage of not just the case, but basically the United States in the 80s and Hollywood in the 80s and everything that was going on there?

Alison Ellwood: Yeah. We had researchers working constantly, bringing in material all the time and finding new things. One of the best things we found was [footage of] Scott after he'd been shot in Jacksonville. I mean, who knew that existed? That was crazy that we got that. That was like another point in telling of the story. It was just covered by local news. I guess he was still famous enough as being attached to Liberace, that they covered it as a local thing, but we never knew that existed. It was constant, bringing stuff in, even up until the very last minute.

Michael Connelly: The archival stuff that we were able to get, that Alison was able to get, really are the reasons to take it from podcast to visual storytelling. You can have, as I did in the podcast, Scott talk about knowing these people like Michael Jackson, but I've already said he's an unreliable narrator. In the documentary, we have a slew of photos of him with Michael Jackson, so it's confirmed. The documentary confirms a lot of the podcast that you can't just confirm with audio storytelling.

Just on a more basic level, why do you think that true crime stories make for such interesting television?

Michael Connelly: From my standpoint, it's because you're talking about the 2% of the world that gets involved in these things. It's almost like science fiction or something. You're taking someone into a world that they don't understand. When I do book tours, I usually say, “How many here have solved a murder?” and no one raises their hand. But they love reading books about solving murders, because it's an alien world and it's fascinating, and the stakes are always high. So, I think that does translate to this… I guess it's a vogue, or maybe it's always been that way… but that true crime is something that so many people are interested in.

Alison Ellwood: I personally prefer reading true crime to watching true crime because it's too scary. (laughs)

Michael Connelly: It helps when you have a story that extends the genre or takes it to a point where it has some resonance. The social history involved in this and the start of the crack epidemic, and the tendrils of this story that go into the underworld of Hollywood and the overworld of Hollywood. All that adds to it, I think, and gives you something that's more than a whodunit.

Alison Ellwood: Also, not to be just sensationalized. There's a much deeper story beneath all of this, both about the human beings, and how they got tripped up into all this. Storytelling is what interests me and this was very rich in that respect.

Are there any other Hollywood mysteries, or just mystery stories in general, that you'd like to explore for possible future series?

Alison Ellwood: Yes. (laughs)

Michael Connelly: We've had a good time on this. I enjoyed being a pseudo detective, so Alison and I are and the production company that made this, we're all talking about maybe doing something else.

You've long ago moved past your crime reporting to doing fiction. Was it fun to get your reporter’s cap back on and do all of the interviews and probe into the mystery?

Michael Connelly: Yes, definitely. I mean, I don't think I ever lost that. You're right, I've not done any kind of newspaper writing or anything like that. Even though it's been 25 years or so since I worked at a newspaper, I've always felt, even as I'm writing fiction, that I'm still a journalist at heart. Something happened in the last few years, maybe the craze of podcasts led me back to telling true stories and it's been fun. I don't want this one to be the last story I tell that's true.

You've also been having a hot streak on television right now with Bosch and Bosch: Legacy and The Lincoln Lawyer and now this. Writing books is very solitary work, and TV is much more interactive. You're dealing with people, everyone's putting things together. Are you enjoying all the different directions your TV work is taking in?

Michael Connelly: Yeah, I think it's therapeutic to get out of the isolation of a room where you write books and go into a [TV} writing room or go to a set. It appears that I'm more involved than I really am. What I do is gather people that I can trust with my work and let them do their thing, and then I bask in the glory of it. So, it's not like I'm totally there all the time. I pick my times to show up and to help out if I can, but for the most part, I'm back in that room by myself writing books.

Copyright ©2024 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: September 8, 2024.

Photos © 2024. Courtesy of MGM+. All rights reserved.

Except for Photo 2 © 2024 Jay S. Jacobs. All rights reserved.

[innervoiceart]

Joni Mitchell photographed by Graham Nash at her home on Lookout Mountain Avenue in Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles in September 1969.

"Elliot, David, and I migrated from New York to Los Angeles. David was my agent; Elliot was my manager. I bought this little house, and David Crosby chided me for it; he said I should have looked around. But I liked that house.

The hill behind my house was full of little artificial man-made caves. The house was charming. I paid $36,000 for it, but I paid it off. I probably paid more for it because I paid it off. It had a fireplace and it was mysteriously protected by a force. My neighbors, who were six feet from my house, were junkies; I was out of town and came back and their house had burned down to the ground.

My dining room looked out over Frank Zappa’s duck pond, and once when my mother was visiting, three naked girls were floating around on a raft in the pond. My mother was horrified by my neighborhood. In the upper hills the Buffalo Springfield were playing, and in the afternoon there was just a cacophony of young bands rehearsing. At night it was quiet except for cats and mockingbirds. It had a smell of eucalyptus, and in the spring, which was the rainy season then, a lot of wildflowers would spring up. Laurel Canyon had a wonderful distinctive smell to it."

- vanityfair.com/culture/2015/02/laurel-canyon-music-scene

[mistons]

Miami Beach

Snowden Estate, 1923, looking north from 44th St & Collins Ave. Harvey S. Firestone's Harbel Villa Estate, 1930s. Fontainebleau Hotel construction, 1954. Firestone estate was used as a construction office.  

Miami History / SMU Libraries / Miami Archives / Gottscho-Schleisner collection, LOC

Fontainebleau architect Morris Lapidus: In his day, critics reviled the excesses of Lapidus’ designs, calling his architecture “the nation’s grossest national product,” “pornography of architecture,” and “boarding house baroque” ... There was a “Staircase to Nowhere” so women dressed in couture and jewels could take an elevator to the top to deposit their coats and glamorously descend the stairs to the lobby. - Fontainebleau Hotel, A Colorful History

Steve Wynn:

In 1954 a guy named Ben Novack and his brother Joe Novack, who had  experience in the Catskills at a hotel called Laurel, and in Miami Beach at the Sans Souci Hotel - sort of like Las Vegas with bunch of hotels lined up one next to the other on Collins Avenue - got an option on the Firestone estate at 41st St. on Collins Ave., a big 15-acre oceanfront piece that was owned by the famous family that made tires.

Ben Novack and Joe Novack conceived with an architect named Morris Lapidus of a hotel called Fontainebleau. This place was going to be a new idea. The hotel itself was going to be a series of experiential moments that included formal French gardens, sort of a Jewish version of Versailles; a gorgeous, soaring, high ceiling lobby; a lot of curvilinear spaces and curved stairways; murals on the wall of 18th century France; a fabulous showroom; a shopping arcade below; beyond the garden an expansive Cabana and pool club; a beautiful spa; and a curved building with blue glass. The Fontainebleau was going to set a new standard of destination resorts on planet Earth. It was so breakaway, so profoundly new it didn't even add a name on it. No sign, just the building.

It opened in 1954 and it changed everything people came from France, Italy, Germany, Mexico, Venezuela, Argentina, and Brazil. Between Christmas and Easter you had to know somebody to get a room. Everybody from Frank Sinatra and Johnny Mathis worked there. It was the coolest place to be in America during high season. The Fontainebleau dwarfed in scale and imagination anything that had ever been done anywhere in Europe or America, and it was received that way.  

Jay Sarno was a character from Atlanta. He saw the Fontainebleau. He saw that this place was in the literary sense romantic, better than the outside world. It was a universe utopia within itself. Sarno never got over it

I was going to school at the University of Pennsylvania. My folks had Cabana 364 on an annual basis. I’d come there at Christmastime, and I never got over it. To me it seemed like the greatest thing in the world is to create a place that would transport people that way.

[empirearchives]

Excerpt from the Memoirs of Heinrich Heine: Heine’s memories of the time he saw Napoleon in person

The Emperor! The Emperor! The Great Emperor! When I think of the Great Emperor then all is summer green and golden in my thoughts; a long avenue of limes blooms forth into my vision, and in the bowers of their branches sit singing nightingales: a waterfall roars, flowers stand in round beds and dreamily nod their lovely heads—and I was in wonderful nearness to it all. The painted tulips greeted me with beggarly pride and condescension; the nerve-sick lilies nodded tender and woe-begone; the drunken red roses greeted me laughing from afar, the night-violets sighed—I was not yet acquainted with the myrtles and laurels, for they lured not with glowing blossoms, but I was on particularly good terms with the mignonette, with whom I now stand so ill—I am speaking of the palace garden at Düsseldorf, where often I lay on the turf and listened eagerly while Monsieur Le Grand told me of the warlike deeds of the great Emperor and, as he told, beat out the marches that had been drummed during the doing of those deeds, so that I saw and heard everything vividly. Monsieur Le Grand drummed so that he well-nigh broke the drum of my ear. . . .

But what it was to me when I saw him, I myself, with thrice blessed eyes, his very self. Hosannah! The Emperor.

It was in the avenue of the Palace garden at Düsseldorf. As I thrust my way through the throng; I thought of the deeds and the battles which Monsieur Le Grand had drummed to me, and my heart beat the march of the General—and yet at the same time I thought of the police order prohibiting riding through the avenue, penalty five shillings—and the Emperor with his suite rode down the middle of the avenue, and the scared trees bowed as he passed, and the sunbeams trembled in fear and curiosity through the green leaves, and in the blue heavens there swam visibly a golden star. The Emperor was wearing his modest green uniform and his little cocked hat known the world over.

He was riding a little white horse that paced so calmly, so proudly, so securely, and with such an air. . . Listlessly sat the Emperor, almost loosely, and one hand held high the rein, and the other tapped gently on the neck of the little horse. . . The Emperor rode calmly down the middle of the avenue. No agent of the police opposed him; behind him proudly rode his followers on foaming steeds, and they were laden with gold and adornments; the drums rattled, the trumpets blared; near me Aloysius the Fool threaded his way and babbled the names of the Generals; not far off sottish Gumpertz bellowed, and with a thousand thousand voices the people cried: “Long live the Emperor!”

Source: Heinrich Heine's Memoirs, From His Works, Letters, and Conversations; Volume 1

[oldshowbiz]

Adolph Linick convinced Adolph Zukor, Marcus Loew, and William Fox to abandon the fur business and get into the movies. 

Eventually he moved to Hollywood and lived in this colonial style mansion at 1343 Laurel Avenue.

[lazyworksinprogress]

on Sunday, I went to an art exhibition in a backroom in Midrand...

one of my friends arranged for us to attend a small showing of the Bark//Please exhibition held at the Backroom SCAM (Studio for Creative Arts in Midrand) and we had an inspirational afternoon. what I expected to be an impersonal hour or so at an underwhelming typical gallery turned out to be something quite different. One of the big reasons for this is the Studio is a backroom that has been converted into a gallery and studio space - I wasn't sure I'd come to the right place when I stood outside what appeared to be someone's house in a residential suburb.

we had made an appointment to view the art which was a concession to the space's capacity limitations that has been turned into a strength. it felt intimate to be guided through in a story in a little group. Lesiba Mabitsela, the gallery owner, presented a lot of information about the barkcloth exhibit and our handful had an interesting discussion touching on fashion, geopolitics, and history for about an hour.

after the appointed hour of barkcloth appreciation, my friend and I sat in Lesiba's backyard and chatted his ears off. We made our way into his storage and work space to get a private view of upcoming projects and made him promise to invite us back whenever the gallery has more events. It felt like making a very special memory to have this kind of experience, particularly in an area that doesn't have a developed commercial art scene.

I linked a bit of information below about the show and its inspirations - the Issey Miyake connection made my heart soft and I told Lesiba about my mother and my shared love of his design philosophy. I put a little section on abaca too because I was reminded of Dolly De Leon wearing Rajo Laurel at the Baftas.

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A post shared by SCAM (@thebackroomscam)

"The exhibition showcases some early encounters, thought-processes and creative explorations between Ugandan visual artists Sheila Nakitende ( @sheila.nakitende ) and Liz Kobusinge ( @kobusinge ), including South African fashion practitioners Lesiba Mabitsela ( @souvenirs_of_conflict ) and Thabiso Ncanana ( @thabiso.ncanana ) in their explorations of bark, barkcloth and barkcloth papermaking in Kwa-Zulu Natal, South Africa. The exhibition comprises gifts and process work materialised during the Pan-African Research Residency (2023) that was facilitated by the African Fashion Research Institute (AFRI) ( @afri.digital ) in partnership with Creative Nestlings Foundation ( @creativenestlings ) as part of The Fold, a fashion research initiative supported by the British Council ( @britishcouncil )."

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A post shared by Darlyne Komukama (@darlkom)

"Issey Miyake’s essential touchstone has been the concept of making clothing from “a Piece of Cloth.” His process explores the fundamental relationship between the body, the cloth that covers it, and the space and room that is created between these elements, divesting itself of the labels of “East” or “West”. Miyake’s creative process begins by studying a single thread and creating his material, which then leads to new clothing." - IsseyMiyake.com

In 1993, he launched PLEATS PLEASE ISSEY MIYAKE line using the unique “garment pleating” process. The label offered clothing as a product that was easy to wear, to care for and to travel with; practical for all aspects of daily life, comfortable, affordable, and elegant. He continued to pursue avenues through which to create clothing that could suit the needs and lifestyle of a modern woman. - IsseyMiyake.com

[kalakian]

Why it's hard to talk about Martial Law and the Marcos regime

The student who dared to question Imee Marcos.

Archimedes Trajano, a student of Mapua Institute of Technology who unfortunately met his end in the hands of Imee Marcos’ henchmen.

During an open forum at the Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila, the then-21-year-old questioned Imee on her capability to lead the youth and told her that she only became the head of the Kabataang Barangay because she was the president’s daughter. He also questioned her on the human rights abuses being committed by her father.

On September 2, 1977, his crumpled body was strewn on the streets of Manila. The official explanation was that he had died in a frat rumble inside his dormitory. Witnesses, however, said that Imee’s security dragged him away from the open forum. Trajano’s family successfully sued Marcos for civil damages in a Hawaii court; however, the local Supreme Court overturned it in 2006 due to a technicality committed by a lower court in trying to implement the prior verdict.

CONGRESS PADLOCKED UNDER MARTIAL LAW, 1972-1986

Days before the scheduled reopening of the Senate and the House of Representatives under the 1935 Constitution, Marcos promulgated the 1973 Constitution, which effectively abolished Congress and replaced it with a unicameral legislature which would be formed three years after. Opposition legislators reported to the Legislative Building on January 22, 1973, but found the building padlocked and under an armed guard.

The 7th Congress had been set to open its second regular session on January 22. The photo depicts Senators Doy Laurel, Eva Estrada Kalaw, Ramon Mitra, and Jovito Salonga posing in front of the Senate session hall which had been padlocked, a stark symbol of power held by a single man.

Between 1972 and 1977, sixty thousand Filipinos were arrested for “political reasons.” A new word entered the Filipino vocabulary, “salvage.” The brutal verb described how the military would disappear individuals, torture and murder them, and then toss their corpses into vacant lots or drop them by the side of the road. Thousands were salvaged under Marcos’ reign of terror.

Photo shows the legs of Judy Taguiwalo, former Social Welfare secretary and member of the Samahan ng Demokratikong Kabataan, as policemen force her and her fellow activists to leap off a jeepney during a rally after the State of the Nation Address of President Ferdinand Marcos in front of Manila's Congress on January 26, 1970. 

Two were killed and many were injured after a scrimmage at Manila’s Burgos Drive up to nearby golf link in Intramuros and Luneta Park. The injured were brought to the Philippine General Hospital on Taft Avenue.

Prior to the confrontation between students and policemen, Ed Jopson of Ateneo and the conservative National Union of Students of the Philippines (NUSP) chose radio commentator Arienda as a rally speaker over firebrand Gary Olivar of UP and SDK. It was dubbed as the “microphone battle” of the radical and conservative protesters in the 70s.

(1) FilipiKnow: 10 Lesser-Known Photos from Martial Law Years That Will Blow You Away

GMA: High court voids case vs Imee over 1977 killing of student

(2) FilipiKnow: 10 Lesser-Known Photos from Martial Law Years That Will Blow You Away

Official Gazette: The History of the Senate of the Philippines

(3) World Socialist Website: Forty-eight years since Marcos declared martial law in the Philippines

(4) ANC: The 7 deadly protests of the First Quarter Storm

[kits-shrine]

“That may make things tricky, but surely you can figure out a cover,” Cian huffed growing a bit irritated with Robert’s excuses, “it would also be a good idea to find out who's on his teams in advance Koki.”

“Quite right Cian, so who do we need to know and look out for?” Koki asked the man.

~

“Lead the way,” Laurel grinned.

Against his natural inclinations Robert told them about the 4 man (or well 3 man 1 woman) team that he worked with to handle the dirtier aspects of the Stone's affairs. From buy offs, to corruption, to clean up, they handled it all. Murder was not something that came up often, other avenues were preferred but it wasn't off the table... just look at Henry.

~

The skeleton did so happily, telling them about the Hotspring and Inn and it's proprietor as they approached a very large set of doors. Entering they were greeted by a very cheerful feline monster "Welcome hon-nyahed- guests!"

"Hello Neko!" Yurei greeted "We're Here For Dinner. I'm Sure My Brother Is Already Here?"

Neko nodded and gestured them down a hall "Oh Yes! Go right on in-nyah."