FRIENDS AND FAMILY: FERRET, HARPO, MICKEY ROONEY, AND THE "ORIGINAL" LEAV!

This is a special post, put together for my friend Joe Higgins! The top photo is of Ed "the Ferret" Loftus, doing a phony punch to Tony "Harpo" Montano, with Mickey "Rooney" Montano, Tony's younger brother, throwing in his own "love tap."

The second photo is of Mickey "Rooney," getting out of his stock race car. I had the privelege of painting the designs on this car, including the tag, right below Mickey's legs, that says "SMOKIN' JOE HIGGS!" That refers to the above-mentioned Mr. Higgins.

The third photo is of my brother Bill, who these guys called "Lev" years before I adopted that appellation, though I always spelled it correctly, as "LEAV." In this crowd, I was known as "Howdy Doody," which Harpo later changed to Howard J. Doolittle, or "Howard," for conversational purposes.

All of these photos are from the early '80's, when all of us were much younger. Too bad I don't have any pics of "Higgs" from this era, but I'll publish them, if I get my hands on them. I have more photos of my brother, which I'll publish eventually.

Enjoy the trip to "back in the day!

The MAIN ST. CAFE: Rick Derringer and Dave Mason

These are backstage photos from two of our biggest nights at the MAIN ST. CAFE, in Farmingdale, NY. RICK DERRINGER is drinking in the top one, as I shake his wife's hand. I'm in the back of the second photo, behind Dave Mason, and a group of people. (L-R): My partner John, wearing a "staff" shirt; the promoter (I think); Christine, our favorite bartender; me; DAVE MASON, who gave an excellent performance; and the reporter from the local "club" newspaper, on the right.

Notice that the reporter is the only one NOT looking into the camera. In his paper, the photo they published had him looking into the camera, with Mr. Mason and the rest of us looking away from his photographer, who was standing to the side. I got the better photo, hands down.

These are two photos with long stories behind them, and I intend to tell them. The Main St. Cafe was a HUGE chapter of my life, though it only lasted a year and a half. Since I've found an archive of photos in a friend's basement, I think it's time to tell some of these stories.

STAY TUNED.

JO HURT: The Star Wagon, 1966

Ten tears after she died, my mom has arrived! She has a page on the Internet Movie Database.This is signifigant to me for several reasons, chief among them being recognition of her lifelong passion, which was acting.

Another signifigant point is that she was in The Star Wagon with Dustin Hoffman. She always told me that I met him, as a child, but I didn't remember it. According to IMDb, the film was released in 1966, when I was 4 yrs. old. According to mom, Hoffman was amused by my "talkativeness," until I had to be put in the corner because I wouldn't shut up.

I have to be honest. I only half-believed her. Mom knew alot of famous people (Elaine Stritch is my God-mother, and I really remember her!), but I wondered about some of her stories. She told me about Paul Lynde cornering my father at a party, but dad denied it ever happened. At least I have some objective corroboration that mom and Hoffman knew each other at the time.

The third thing is that it gives me more links, to expand the tribute page on my blog. So far, I only have a 1953 painting, a 1945 sketch of her, and an audio link to her Broadway performance of "Zip," from Pal Joey, in 1950. (check it out here)

Let me say this, in addition. For all her faults, she was a great mom, and was a big influence on the man I am today. I love her, and am proud of her accomplishments. I hope to keep her memory alive, and this is another step towards that goal.

FREEDOM, DISCIPLINE, AND 10 MINUTES IN THE BOY SCOUTS: A TALE FROM THE VENDOME

My best freind Starsky was a Boy Scout, and couldn't hang out with us on "Scout" night. One week, he talked me, and another freind into attending a Scout meeeting. The meeting was in the basement of Starsky's school, Blessed Sacrement, on 71st St, by Amsterdam ave, in Manhattan.

He got us down there, but neither of us were serious about joining the Boy Scouts. We just wanted to see what kind of crap he had to put up with, to be part of this group, and why it was more fun than hanging out on the street with us.

Years later, I understand the good that the Boy Scouts' discipline instills in young men, but I, and our other freind would have none of it that day. The two of us lasted less than the first ten minutes in formation. Snickering, we saluted the Scoutmaster, and snickered while he talked, as well, which compounded our offense.

He yelled at us, and Starsky stood at attention the whole time. We embarassed him thoroughly, in front of his Scoutmaster and Troop. I finally got tired of it and said "F--- you, motherf---er, I'm outta here! Stick the Boy Scouts up your a--!" My other freind yelled "yeah!" and we ran from the room, breaking ranks in the neat Boy Scout formation.

Man, it felt good as we got outside, expecting Starsky to follow us. He didn't, though. He stayed in the Boy Scouts for another year, at least. I found out later that Boy Scout training was an advantage in USMC bootcamp, and Eagle Scouts really had a leg up on the rest of us, at least in my Drill Instructors' eyes.

Did I mention how much I hated Paaris Island? No, that's in a later chapter.

Back to the point: As a kid, I liked freedom, and fought against all authority. There was nothing better than being 12 years old, and running freely around the upper west side of Manhattan: climbing up buildings, throwing fluorescent light bulbs like spears down alleys, and getting chased by security guards in Lincoln Center, strip clubs on 42nd St, the annual Boat Show at the old Colisseum (where the Time-Warner complex is now), or anywhere else.

There will never be another decade like the 1970's, and I intend to document all of my experiences from that decade. These are the early years, in my TALES FROM THE VENDOME .

WINDOW PANES ON THE SUBWAY

In 1980, I took alot of acid (See PERMANENT WAVES post). One time, I ate five hits of window pane acid at a freind's house on E. 89th St. in Manhattan, then had to commute to Long Island. I started "peaking" on the subway to Penn station, while still on the east side subway line.

I had this feeling as if my brain was on fire, or exploding, and wondered why I didn't look like my "Solaris" character, with flames for hair. I'm sure I looked scary, but probably not in a good way. I still weighed 120 pounds at 18 years old, and was doing my best to look "cool" in the reflection from the subway's window pane.

I got off at 42nd St, to catch the west side shuttle, but couldn't find it. I saw the 7 train, but wasn't sure if it was an alternative (it is). Hey, I was trippin', and starting to have a "bad" trip, in the subway system I had been travelling most of my young life. I finally decided that I would go ask a cop for directions. Did I mention I was trippin'?

Just as I found a cop to ask for directions, the sign appeared like magic above his head: "Shuttle to Times Square." Once safely on my West Side, I finished my trip to Penn Station, and back out to Freeport without incident... unless this was the same night I got on the LIRR train that made Seaford it's first stop. Naah. I was trippin' that night, too, but I'll tell it in another post.

The point here is to try to recall as much of this jumbled year (1980) as I can. Eventually, I will find some way to put this part of my story in order. These are mostly "small" anecdotes, but they are bricks in a huge wall.

STREET PHOTOGRAPHER on Park Ave. 1980

From the PERMANENT WAVES:1980 Collection of Stories.

I was sitting on the premises of a building across from my job, smoking a joint, when a guy with a bunch of photography equipment came up to me, and said "can I take your picture?" I said "sure," and hid the joint behind my back, while trying to pose. He said "why are you hiding the joint?" I said " because I don't want evidence of me doing this, or to get busted."

This guy whips out a bunch of photos of himself, some as a clown, some as a cop. He gives me the total lecture about "who he is," and asks me "who I am," of course. I got bedazzled with his line of thinking, because I was taking too much LSD, mostly on weekends. The "street photographer"'s lecture led me to the point where weed became as bad as taking acid (which I was taking like candy), and I had to quit it as well, for a time.

This was one weird event that happened 27 years ago, in 1980, across from 2 Park Avenue.

Today, I could be the guy with the camera, taking photos of the young "screw ups." Plenty of idiots still smoke weed on the street, with all the private surveillance cameras out there, as well as the public ones! To tell the truth, I'd be scared to try to photograph people I don't know, or even ask them for permission, these days!

1980: PERMANENT WAVES!

In 1980, I had just dropped out of Nassau County Community College for a job in the mail room of the Beneficial National Life Insurance Company, located at 2 Park Av, between 31st and 32nd St. My buddy Starsky worked there during the summer, because his mom was one of their executives, and she got me the job there, as well.

I went in to interview, and they gave me a test, with over a thousand questions, and told me I had to answer as many correctly as I could in 15 minutes. I answered alot of them (the number 141 seems to jump out as I write this), and then they hired me on the spot. They also told me that I would be smarter than my boss; kind of "off the record." I was clueless, of course.

I knew nothing about the insurance business, and even less about the mail service it required. I was a fast learner, however. I found the mail room to be full of characters: Linguini, the former gay whore, but an all-around fun guy to hang out with; T from the Bronx, a Black Italian; Brooklyn Pete, a typical guido; Periscope, who tried to be the old man among the group at 23, a recent departee from the US Navy, with full mustache, beard, and '70's hairstyle. We had also two Joe's, both from Brooklyn, though one was Italian, and one was from Haiti. There were many other people still to be mentioned, but no women worked in the male-room.

I haven't written much about this part of my life before, so hold on to your seats. Though I'm nowhere near finished with the "Tales From The Vendome" stories, I decided that I have to start telling some of the later stories, and 1980 came right after the 1970's.

During my year at Beneficial, they got sued by Beneficial (toot, toot! -you're good for more) Household Finance, and had to change their name to National Benefit Life Ins. Co. The president of the company was Gerald Tsai, who is still mentioned on Page Six occasionally (not that I ever met him, I just know old company gossip).

You will read funny anecdotes about these people, this company, and most of all, about me. I ate over 500 hits of LSD during 1979 - 80, and everything changed in my life that year. It lead to a breakdown, of course, and a recovery, of sorts. I joined the USMC in June of 1981. You will want to read about 1980, in NYC, as seen through my eyes.

PS: The Canadian rock supergroup Rush came out with the "Permanent Waves" album that year, which is where I took this title from. Rush Limbaugh is now the "spirit of the radio," to quote one of the songs from that album. Take some acid (or not), and think about that. "Take off...to the Great White North!"

Stories About the Permanent Waves:

STREET PHOTOGRAPHER ON PARK AV.

FIVE WINDOW PANES ON THE SUBWAY

TURNING DOWN THE GRAFFITI GANGS- A Tale From the Vendome

As a kid growing up in Manhattan, I wrote graffiti. As a smart kid growing up in Manhattan, I quit writing on walls, after being busted on the subway. However, there was one night I was tempted to rejoin the "graffiti" gang community.

I was at a local church hall, that was rented as a place for the kids from the "projects" to gather. I had a social life in my own neighborhood, but was at war with Starsky, my best freind, at the time. This place was full of older kids, and they were selling joints out front, and inside. I was way out of my element, but struggled to "look cool." My classmate who brought me there led me over to a chalkboard, where people were writing their graffiti tags. If they sucked, they got erased immediately. The best ones were still up, and updated by their authors as challengers came along.

My buddy gave me a piece of chalk, and said "tag on the board, Chris-to-fuh." I tagged my bang 137, with the new style I had picked up from one of the guys at summer camp, who hung out with the REBELS, a local G-gang. I've posted previously about them jumping me, and stealing my spray snow on Christmas eve, the year before. As I said, I had quit writing on walls, but I was quite as happy to tag on the chalkboard.

Well, my style was considered good with the crowd, I think. Before long, a kid came up to me, offering membership in TMB, one of the local Amsterdam G-gangs. I forget what the initials stood for, but the last word was "Boys." I remember this because after I declined to join their group, a kid from TMW came up, and asked me to join his gang. I said "aren't you with that other guy?" He said no, the "W" was for "writers," but the other two words were the same. Apparently, they had been one gang once, and had some differences that split them in two.

Again, I declined to join this gang. I saw both of their gang names attached to tens of different individuals' tags, but I had quit writing, and really wasn't interested. I think the first two letters stood for "The Mad..."

Finally, a third kid comes up, and says "I'm not from one of these 'toy' groups. I'm asking you to join the Masters Of Graffiti."

MOG. They were almost as big as the Rebels, maybe bigger in other areas, or more widespread. Plus, this being the '70's, MOG sounded SO cool to my ears. I saw it attached to some of the BEST graffiti of that day, and I am qualified to judge. I pictured myself writing bang137...MOG. Then I remembered the Rebels, and what jerks they were. These kids may not have been the same color, or from the same background, but they were still criminals first, artists second. I sensed the predatory instinct, and politely declined again.

I bragged about this to Starsky, after we made up, and started hanging together again. Every time we saw a tag with MOG attached to it, I said, "I turned those a$$#0/es down!" I only write graffiti on the PC these days, though my last "tag" on a public space was on my 30th birthday. That's another story, from a later chapter.

This was a Tale From The Vendome.

MY FIRST BOUT WITH ANTI-SEMITISM: WHY I BEAT UP MY JEWISH FREIND

I went to a Catholic school, as did most of my freinds. We had a Jewish freind, who I'll call Lenny. Starsky and I got around to talking about religion with Lenny one day, on a rock in Central Park. He explained that the Jews didn't believe that Jesus was the messiah. We were really into the story about us worshiping the same God, and had him show us the Hebrew writing he was learning.

Well, he was writing Hebrew words in the dirt with a stick for us, when we asked him if he had a word for Jesus. He scrawled something in the dirt, and then spat on it, and said someting like "I spit on Jesus, he means nothing to Jews," before rubbing it out with his foot. Well, we proceeded to KICK HIS ASS, which was DEFINITELY NOT very Christian behavior. We stayed freinds, after the usual "cooling off" period, but I had my first personal taste of "Jew-hating." I am still shamed by this behavior, because I am sure that Jesus doesn't mind his name being spit on, especially by a Jewish 12 year-old. "Turn the other cheek" would be the right choice, but I was 12 as well.

Lenny was a good freind, and I learned much about Judaism from him, and other close freinds in later years. I embrace Judaism, as the roots of Christianity. This was just an incident where I showed a typical pre-teen aggression in the face of opposition to my beliefs.

Many Christians have gotten past this difference in belief; how long until the Muslims will? And what of the secular anti-semitism so prevalent in Europe these days? Why was I able to get beyond this difference, and so many others aren't? That's for another post.

PS: The friend I call "Lenny" in this story is actually Andy Kessler, who died on Mon. Aug. 11th, 2009, after an allergic reaction to a wasp sting. Though I haven't seen him in over 20 years, I'm deeply shocked and saddened. Read more about him in his New York Magazine obituary:
http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2009/08/legendary_skateboarder_andy_ke.html

This story takes place before he started skateboarding. In future Tales From the Vendome posts, I will name him accurately. After seeing how he lived his life, I don't think he'd mind me identifying him. My condolences go out to his sister Jodi, and all his friends and family. He'll be missed.

KOOL AND THE GANG!

My older brother Bill and I turned our Long Island freinds on to KOOL & THE GANG in the early-mid '70's. One of my favorite songs was from the album WILD & PEACEFUL. Here are some lyrics from this (unnamed) song...


Cryin' babies on the doorstep,
Helpless as can be,
Lady of the evening,
Set your mind free.
Grown up in the ghetto,
Never seen a tree, oh...


If you don't understand
The words to this song,
It's on you,
It's on me, yeah.


If you don't understand,
don't get me wrong,
It's on you,
It's on me, yeah.


You try to make it better,
You try to pull it in. (not sure of that line)
You take it from your pocket,
You take it from within.
You take it from your pride, y'all,
You're right back where you been, yeah.


If you don't understand
The words to this song,
It's on you,
It's on me, yeah.

If you don't understand,
don't get me wrong,
It's all about you,
It's all about me, yeah.

Is it any wonder that I was a liberal, growing up "Wild and Peaceful?"

4

4

STATIC AND BANG137 IN FREEPORT: WERE WE A BAD INFLUENCE? YES!

I've mentioned the transition to living in Freeport in an earlier post, where I described it as culture shock. That was only the beginning of my Freeport experiences. I turned on to pot, and other drugs there, though I don't blame the village of Freeport for that. It would have been worse if I had stayed in NYC, I'm sure.

I actually may have had a bad influence on Freeport. I was on the cutting edge of NYC graffiti artists that were spreading into the suburbs at that time. When I arrived in Freeport, the tags on every wall were things like "Frank Loves Mary," written very plainly. All of my new freinds were fascinated by my graffiti writing style.

This led me back to "tagging" walls, which I had quit doing in NYC. It seemed like a new world, where the lessons learned in NYC didn't apply. My brother hated this, even throwing my expensive "midi-wide" markers down the sewer! -All to no avail.

Before long, I was doing the masterpieces that I never got the chance to do in NYC subways on the back wall of the A&P supermarket in Freeport. The suburban onslaught of graffiti would have happened without "bang 137," but I happened to be a graffiti artist at that time.

I teamed up with another ex-NYC graffiti artist, the late Danny Briscoe, to produce this awesome vandalism. I use his real name here, because he figures prominently in my Freeport experience, and to remember him as a good freind. He tagged "STATIC," and we shared "SHOCK!" -as a joint graffiti name.

Freeport was a treacherous ground for us outsiders, though I had the good fortune of my father teaching at Freeport high since 1962, the year I was born. I also had an older brother who immediately established himself as one of the "bad asses" in the school, which was both a boon and a handicap, for different reasons.

Anyway, more about my Freeport adventures in future posts. This is merely a teaser, meant to ease the transition from my unfinished Vendome tales to this next chapter. The second story is "FREEPORT WILD TIMES: VANDALIZING THE GROVE ST. THEATER." see it here (link).

I'll gather the Freeport stories into one page, but it may be more than I wanted to chew. For now, this will be the page I post new Freepoet links to.

LOSING MY VIRGINITY IN A PET SHOP ON COLUMBUS AVE: WE WERE THE ORIGINAL "PET SHOP BOYS"! THANK YOU AL GOLDSTIEN!

I was 14, and Starsky and our friendly neighborhood victim (Vic, for short) were 13. In short, we were adolescents who wanted to get laid. Well, vic worked in a pet store on Columbus Ave, between 71st and 72nd St. The pet store also had an apartment in the building above, where they used to keep dogs, like an illegal pet motel. Vic had the key to this apt.

We got ahold of a copy of AL GOLDSTIEN'S "SCREW" magazine, which wasn't too dificult, and found the ads for hookers. We arranged to meet the girl on the corner of 72nd and Columbus Ave. in a half-hour, and went upstairs. The apartment had various dogs in cages, but none that seemed mistreated. Vic's job was to take care of them, and he loved animals. After checking that the dogs all had food and water, we started jumping up and down on the bed (yes, it was supposed to be someone's apartment) screaming "we're going to get laid!"

Before long, and while Vic was out meeting the hooker, the Superintendant came and threw us out of the apartment for making noise. Now we had a hooker, and three horny adolescents, with nowhere to go. However, Vic also had the keys to the pet shop itself, which was closed on Sundays. Let's just say that it wasn't closed that Sunday. We had all been arguing about who would go first. Vic had the money; I was the oldest; Starsky just said "I'm badder than either of you."

So Vic shows up at the pet shop with the girl, who tells us she's 20 years old. She wants 90 dollars to do all three of us, and asks if it's all of us at once. We're like, "hell, no!" -at the same time, we realize that Vic only has 80 dollars. Starsky and I steal five dollars each out of the pet shop's cash register (but not a dollar more). As Vic walks by me to get the extra money "we" need, he whispers "you can go first."

We put down several huge bags of dog food as a mattress, and covered it with actual dog mattresses, still in the wrapping, in the back room of the pet shop.

The girl talked about how she'll never forget breaking three cherries in one hour. I'll save the explicit parts for my book, but will say that I have seniority over both Starsky and Vic by at least 20 minutes, in relation to losing one's virginity. She said that I was hogging their time (watching the clock), and I said "F#%* them!", as they laughed at my blue underwear (hey, it was the '70's, and my mom was "progressive"!-LOL!) through the diamond-shaped window to the back room.

Talk about a screwed-up introduction to sexual intercourse!

PS: The "PET SHOP BOYS" are also a new-wave band from the 1980's, for those who might not know. I am a big fan of theirs, even though they are totally GAY. I'm still an original "pet shop boy," but this, my first experience, was hetero. No hard feelings, to (or for) my homosexual freinds! LOL!

PPS: I ALSO WAS ABLE TO WATCH AL GOLSTIEN'S CABLE SHOW, CALLED "MIDNIGHT BLUE," WHERE HE FLIPPED OFF MAYOR KOCH, TELLING HIM THAT SCREW AND MIDNIGHT BLUE WOULD BE AROUND MUCH LONGER THAN ED WOULD BE MAYOR! HE WAS RIGHT.

ADOLESCENT PERVERTS! GRABBING ASSES ON THE STREET

Please bear with me when I reveal these anecdotes, because they are all building blocks of the overall story that I am telling here. This one sounds really bad.


I was hangin' with Starsky and another kid from the crowd. Our little hormones must have all been out of control at the same time, because we went on an ass-grabbing spree on W. 72nd St. Two memories stand out; one shameful, one funny. After doing the "goose-and-run" thing for a while, we saw a couple of gorgeous Japanese girls. They were at least several years older than us (I was 11 or 12), but still very young and vulnerable. After we goosed them and ran, we came back, and did it again. They were definitely putting up with this better than any other girls (or women) that we had done this to earlier, so we tried to talk to them, but I ended up goosing one of them from the front side. I couldn't help it, and she finally did take a swing at me after that. I think she ended up hitting Starsky, who was totally innocent, of course.


After laying low for a while after that, we talked our other freind into humping a woman's butt at a pay phone on 72nd and Central Park West. Well, this lady was not one to be screwed around with, in the early '70's. She cornered him in the subway station, by running across the street to the other exit when he tried to escape, and he didn't have the balls to jump the turnstile. She called the cops from the pay phone, while Starsky and I laughed at his misfortune! I think that we eventually gave him lookout assistance before the cops arrived, but this was the '70's, so we had alot of time to help her in that respect as well, prolonging the hilarity! Yes, we actually helped her to capture him, before helping him escape.


When I was a kid, we didn't think about victimization. We did what we thought we could get away with, as children always do.We were victimized as well, but we got over it. I eventually learned how to treat women properly, but it took some time. More on that in future chapters.

(This one was posted in reaction to the 10 year-old who rubbed his groin on a school staffer, and got handcuffed by the NYPD for an hour. His behavior, like mine, deserves the harshest punishment appropriate for his age. I think he deserves worse punishment for trying that kind of behavior in school. Remember, I didn't even get caught! I punished myself later in life.)

Christmas Graffiti 5

5

This blog is graffiti.

GETTING ROBBED ON HALLOWEEN, AND CHASING THE CULPRITS TO A PROJECT ROOFTOP

I was in 6th grade, so I guess I was eleven when this happened. It was halloween, and I brought a couple of freinds over, to paint our faces for trick-or-treating. One freind unexpectedly "invited" two 14 year old girls, as well. I had no idea that I was being set up.

One of my two freinds kept me busy painting monster faces on each other in the bathroom, while the other helped these girls steal everything of value they could find in our apartment. When we got out of the bathroom with the monster makeup on, the girls were halfway out the door. I didn't notice the bulge in one of the girl's snorkel coat at all.

As we talked about where we were going to trick or treat, one of the guys asked me to play the radio. This was unusual in itself, because we didn't usually listen to the radio when we were hanging out. I said "OK," only to find the radio missing. I ran to the drawer that held my brother's cassette recorder. Gone! I started crying like a baby, thinking about how much trouble I was in. Everything was gone, even my brother's penny collection!

I almost came to blows with my freinds after realizing that they set this up. It ended up with us trailing the girls to McDonalds, where they spent the pennies, and further downtown to the Amsterdam projects, behind Lincoln Center, where most of my classmates lived (These two idiots among them!)

Somehow, we found which building they were in, and enlisted the help of the Toyloy family in that building. I name them because Ricky was in my older brother's class, and his sister Yvette went to the roof with me to get the goods back from the theiving girls. I had the pleasure of reminiscing about this incident with both of them last year at the one and only St. Paul the Apostle School reunion.

Unfortunately, the two "friends" who set me up back in the day weren't at the reunion, and I never knew what happened to the girls. We had them arrested, and their families kept coming to our house to plead with us not to press charges. I had a fantasy about getting sex from one of them to keep them out of jail, which was a pretty bad thing to think at such a young age. Of course, I was 12 years old by that time, so I had an excuse for thinking that way. We ended up not pressing charges, my childish fantasy remaining just that.

At the reunion, I heard that the old freind that showed the girls where all the valuables were in my family's apt. was now in jail. Big surprise. He, and the other kid had starting stealing cars by eighth grade, just two years later. I always hoped that my better nature would rub off on freinds like these. I should count myself lucky that more of their malicious nature didn't rub off on me.

JUST ANOTHER HALLOWEEN TALE FROM THE VENDOME! DON'T MISS MUG-OR-TREAT, from the next year!

GERALDO REPORTS ON A FIRE AT THE VENDOME

I was called down to the Principal's office again. What the hell did I do this time? I saw my brother was also summoned, so it wasn't likely anything we did. We didn't socialize at school. It turned out that there was a "little fire" at our building, as the Principal described it.

I remember worrying about Baggy, our cat, all afternoon. Mom was at work until 5 PM, just a few blocks away from my school, and Dad was in Freeport, teaching HS English.

As it turned out, there was a 4 alarm fire at the Vendome (48 W. 73rd St), started by a grease fire from the bar/restaurant on the ground floor. All but 5 apartments of the seven-floor building (6 apts. per floor.) were uninhabitable. All of the B apartments were spared, as in 3B (our apt.), 4B, etc. Baggy was fine, too.

When I finally got home, the walls of both adjoining apartments were totally ripped out, and you could see into the living rooms. Pink insulation littered the hallway. It was surreal. When we got to our apt, at the end of the hall, it was amazing to see so little smoke damage inside.

Around 4 or 5 PM, a channel 7 Eyewitless news crew came around to film a report. The guy they sent had long hair, and was a rising star of local news at the time, none other than GERALDO RIVERA! He made the report from our upstairs neighbor's apartment, 5 or 7B.

This is one of my earlier Vendome stories, so I was pretty young. GERALDO did his report, and when they put the camera on me and my brother, I was smiling and laughing, so I looked down. We saw it rebroadcasted on the late news, at 11. He didn't ask us any questions, someone just said "get a shot of the kids!"

I still laugh at that memory, but this was a great tragedy, though no lives were lost. At that age, I was just happy that my cat was OK, and that we still had a place to live.

REBUFFING ANOTHER GAY ADVANCE; WHAT, WAS THERE SOMETHING IN THE WATER?

I had an older friend, a kid who lived in the Mayfair towers, next to the Dakota. He was 14, I was 12. He was rich, I wasn't. He was pretty slick about things, too. First, he talked me into trusting him to carry me across a shallow part of the boat lake in Central Park, instead of getting muddy feet walking around it's edges. I was a naieve child, when it came to friendships. Of course I ended up swimming in the filthy water, and got beaten with the scrub-brush when I got home. Yes, beaten on the butt, and screaming on the floor.

This was Mom's message to me, telling me that something was wrong with this.

I was leery of hanging out with this kid again, but I went over to his apartment to play with GI Joes. Yeah, well it got kind of weird. He started undressing, saying we were going to play with GI Joes in the bathtub. Ever the diplomat, I said I didn't want to do that. He ended up rolling around on his thick shag carpet naked, as I hastily excused myself.

I took it in stride. I had other friends that I knew were gay, even before they admitted it, when I was 12 years old. We were still kids; I thought of this as an embarassing invitation that I rejected. Only today do I realize that this kid was probably molested at an early age, which made him so open about what he wanted to do at 14 years old.

I was lucky for my upbringing. I was exposed to NYC in the '70's, and it wasn't a pretty sight, except to me. I thought I lived in a great world, even with all of the crap my family went through. I am a product of my times, and I'm proud of it.

HOW I AVOIDED CHILD PORNOGRAPHY AT THE VENDOME: I WAS GIVEN A CHOICE

As a child, even before I moved into the Vendome, I had been photographed more times than I can remember, though there is that one with me lifting my shirt with no diaper on, at about 2, that I'll never forget... LOL! My father was an amateur photographer, and my mother had a freind who was a professional photographer. Between them, we had a ton of family photos by the time I was 8 years old.

Around this time, this friend of mom's asked her if I would pose for nude pictures, and she asked me if I wanted to pose nude for his "artistic" photography. I was pre-pubescent, but still realized the sexual aspect of this. I knew he was gay, wanting to look at me in a sexual way, not an "artistic" one. I liked girls, even before I reached puberty, and knew this wasn't for me.


I told mom that I wasn't comfortable posing nude, and that was the end of that story. As much as I might fault my mom for even asking me if I wanted to pose nude for a probable pedophile, I'm proud that she never let that happen against my wishes, and protected me from worse predators. She was a consummate liberal, open to all ideas. I was exposed to more in my childhood than many adults have seen in their whole life.


There's a flip side to this coin: I wanted to see one of my babysitters nude, and she never babysat me again. That's for another post, but she was also a freind of mom's; one with morals.

LEAV IN THE USMC: I WAS CALLED "LITTLE HITLER" IN THE NDRC

A teaser from a future chapter: LEAV IN THE USMC


Shortly after I was admitted to the Naval Drug Rehab Center (NDRC), I was made Unit Leader, under the premise of putting low-ranking (I was an E-3) people in charge of the rest of the druggies. I soon earned the nickname "Little Hitler," for enforcing the rules strictly. It was strictly for show: I used to let most of the people I assigned extra duty off, telling them to do some "light dusting" in the back of the squad bay (In other words, just disappear for an hour). I did make some senior people scrub shower drains with toothbrushes, though. This appeased the staff at the rehab, and helped me keep discipline as well. "Friends" who thought that they could flaunt the rules were occasionally made to pay with shit duty as well, keeping the worst people in line. Yes, we were a bunch of screw-ups, but they were MY screw-ups, and I marched them around with the pride that any leader would take in his people.

There is more to tell about my stay at NDRC Miramar, which also is the base where the movie "Top Gun" was filmed. This is just a teaser, of course.

Update: This one's funny, "MY FAVORITE GUNNY."

BRUCE'S PLEASURE CHEST: A VENDOME TALE

When I lived at the Vendome, a sex store opened up in the neighborhood, called Bruce's Pleasure Chest. We actually went into this store, and held the wax tit-candles and penis water guns. At that age, it wasn't long before we got banned from the store for our antics in that environment.


This made them our enemies. Bruce's became a target of ours, much like the old Irish bar, which we smokebombed just for kicks. With Bruce's, we threw a bunch of empty airline liquor bottles at his window. Whoever was working there threw a huge empty vodka bottle back at us, that night.


Another time - I can't remember exactly what we did, but we ended up on my friend Rich's fire escape, directly above the store, with the fag from the store yelling "if I ever catch you kids, I'm going to MOLEST you!" -as we taunted him back!


I often wonder if Bruce's PC was tied in with the gay drug dealing ring that took over the area, as cited in my other posts. I think that he owned one of the weed spots that I went to years later, a few blocks away, under the cover of a similar sex shop. It's pretty much a no-brainer,

--BECAUSE...

He remembered us as the kids who caused him so many problems at his first store, which I didn't know to be a weed spot, being too young. Years later, we ended up copping from his new store, as well as the bookstore, which I think was another of his front businesses. We never had a good relationship with any of these guys; they were always pushing the limits of acceptable behavior, even when we were buying pot from them.


I don't want to associate all sex shops with Bruce's, or slander all gays as drug dealers and/or child molesters. I do want to relate my past experiences, which happen to include all of these elements, to one degree or another. These events all happened from the mid - 1970's to early '80's, and are merely anecdotes from my days living at the Vendome.

Bush Fails To Prevent East Coast Blizzard

This was forwarded to me in an email from ÅG:


Bush Fails To Prevent East Coast Blizzard


Minorities Hit Hardest by Brian Williams NBC


As President Bush and his staff cowered in the White House, snow continued to pile up on the many poor and minority victims who could not afford to get out of town, or to safety in Florida. Crucial supplies of blankets, hot cocoa, popcorn and dark rum - so essential to surviving the stress of any major snowstorm - lay in stores undelivered.


"Where is the government? I need my sidewalk shoveled so I can get out to buy my damn lottery tickets!" said one D.C. resident from his living room. "Why are we wasting money in Iraq when we could be spending it here?"


Progressive blogs blasted the President for his inaction. "We find the timing terribly suspicious - just as the Domestic Spying hearings kick into high gear, what happens? A major northeast Blizzard. Why now?" wrote blogger FUAmericaNBush2.


Hearings into the Blizzards' effect on hearings are almost a certainty.


Howard Dean has suggested he will call for an investigation once his new medications kick in. John Kerry took a break from the sporting activities of the glamorous super-rich in some exotic locale (random choice: Ice Sailing in Finland) to call for new legislation outlawing snowstorms. "The Republican Congress has dropped the ball once again. I have always been a staunch supporter of anti-snow legislation, except for certain locations where I ski. Snow has no business on our roads and the President and Congress know that."


Calls for impeachment over "SnowGate", as some are calling it, already are mounting as deeply as the snow itself. What will be discovered underneath will prove to have a truly chilling effect on the Republicans, as the inevitable thaw proceeds.


More breaking news......


Al Sharpton demands an investigation as to why snow is ALWAYS white.


Cheney has stock in Tru-Value Hardware, which sold an unprecedented number of SNOW SHOVELS today. Calls for Cheney's impeachment are mounting.


The gracious junior senator from N.Y. has opened the doors of her home to all of the heatless poor of her neighborhood. She is busy baking cookies for them, while her husband applies body heat to the nearly frozen teen-aged girls.

3

3

TALES FROM THE VENDOME: INCIDENT AT 72ND & COLUMBUS

It all started with Starsky. He had to throw the gum into this other guy's hair, as we were walking away. He ducked around the corner before the guy turned around, and I was standing there. This guy was a 17-year old who had been trying to find out if we were gay, which we weren't Anyway, he charged at me, and I charged right back at him. As we scuffled, Starsky came around the corner to assist me against this older, bigger opponent.

Walking down the block was the president of the 71st St. Block Association, and his boyfriend. As he broke up the fight, he held Starsky up against a wall by his throat. Starsky and I were scrawny kids of 13-14 at that time, and this seemed excessive force to me. The 17-year old and I had stopped fighting as soon as the adults intervened, and Starsky wasn't really doing that much, but told the guy "get away from me," or something. I can only guess what provoked this crazy bastard into this rage. I screamed "I'm calling the cops on you, man!"-to which he replied "go ahead, I'm the head of the Block Association!"

I ran over to the bodega on the SW corner of 71st and Columbus to call the cops. The men that hung out in front of the bodega asked us what was wrong. We told them what happened, and they tracked down the two guys at 72nd and Colunbus Ave. This one guy from the bodega came right up to the guy who choked Starsky and said "you hurt that kid," and punched him straight across the jaw!

Within minutes, a larger crowd had gathered. The police pulled up, and the block ass. president told the officers that "this guy hit me!" -The cops immediately handcuffed the guy from the bodega, as Starsky and I, along with the crowd, screamed out against this injustice. The cops wouldn't listen to us, two crying little boys in a sea of outraged people. We tried to show them the bruises on Starsky's neck, but this was the '70's, so we had to accept it.

Meanwhile, in the Vendome, my older brother noticed a commotion out the window; a huge crowd of people gathering around a police car, blocking the intersection of 72nd & Columbus. He got out the monocular (made by our grandfather - Robert K. Leavitt Sr.), and looked across the street. He called our mom to the window, and she saw the entire scene. Starsky and Hutch, in the middle of a big public fiasco again. At the center of the mob, there we were, crying our eyes out to the cops, to no avail.

The only moral I can find here is "don't throw gum in people's hair, and don't assault suspected criminals, unless you want to get screwed." -just another installment in my Tales from the Vendome.

"THE THEME" FROM LEAV! -YA DAMN RIGHT!

Who's the crazy bloggin' man
That's spreadin' sense across the land?
LEAV!
Ya damn right!

Who is the man that would risk his neck
For his brother man?
LEAV!
Can you dig it?

Who's the cat that won't cop out
When there's danger all about?
LEAV!
Right On!

They say this cat LEAV is a bad mother...
SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
-But I'm talkin' 'bout LEAV!
THEN WE CAN DIG IT!

He's a complicated man
And no one understands him but his woman
ANNA LEAV! she's a liberal...


An homage to one of my many inspirational influences, Mr. Isaac Hayes. For those who don't know, these lyrics are an altered version of the theme from SHAFT, a popular movie character in the 1970's. Yeah, Samuel Jackson updated the character in 2000, but he's not Richard Roundtree, the guy who I thought played the BIGGEST and BADDEST hero of that era.

Update 03/15/06: Isaac Hayes has quit south Park over a spoof of Scientology.

Gordon Parks, who created Shaft, has died.

Sad news all around.

PETA KILLS KITTIES!

PLEASE STOP THIS HATEFUL GROUP!

THEY KILL KITTIES!

PARTISAN SEASON'S GREETINGS

For My Democratic Friends:

"Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. And without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee. By accepting these greetings you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for herself or himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher."

For My Republican Friends:

Here's wishing all of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

Hat tip to AG, an old school buddy.

ON RACE: ARE BAD WORDS REALLY HATEFUL? 06/26/03

I've been thinking about "hate" crimes and "hate" speech lately, and I'm reminded of two episodes from my childhood.

The first one was when I was in sixth grade at St. Paul the Apostle school in Manhattan. Most of my friends lived in the Amsterdam housing projects, right behind Lincoln Center. Most days, after school, we would go to the Lincoln Center Library and do childish things, like sliding down the escalators, or scratch up the great Motown records (after listening to them, of course). Across the street was the Julliard school, where we would sneak in and try to get a peek at the aspiring ballerinas practicing. They were like creatures from another planet, all of them so pale and skinny, with their hair pulled up in a little bun on top of their heads.

One day we stayed outside, and taunted them as they left the school, saying "HON-KEY, HON-KEY, HON-KEY!" This was great fun for an hour or so, after which we went back over to Lincoln Center to hang out. I finally got around to asking one of my friends what a "honky" was. After he told me, I said "but wait, I'M WHITE!". One of my friends said "You're not Puerto Rican?", to which I replied "I've got blond hair and freckles!". He replied, "Chris, YOU A HONKY!". We all laughed, and no friendships were ended that day, though we didn't "honky-bait" the Julliard girls again.

The second episode was maybe a year or so later, when I was spending weekends in Freeport with my father. I met a whole new bunch of kids from south Freeport (all white), and quite a different culture. I was talking with a girl from this crowd, when I said to her "nigga, you're crazy".

OH BOY.

The resulting commotion could be called "culture shock", but I was lucky the whole crowd didn't kick my ass! I tried to explain that where I was from, that expression was no more offensive than saying "Man, you're crazy" or "Dude, you're crazy". I can still remember her screaming "He called me a nigger!", over and over as my brother helped smooth things out with the crowd.

I still wonder if she would've had as bad a reaction if I had said "Bitch, you're crazy". However, I'm proud to say that I watched many people from that crowd overcome their racism in the following years, especially during high school.

The point of these stories is that you can't judge what's in a person's heart or mind just by what they say on one occasion. You also can't guess at what another person might be over-sensitive to, or what they actually hear when you speak. I realize that I'm citing childhood anecdotes, showing me to be quite a naive child. As adults, more is expected of us. Therein lies my problem with "hate crime" laws. If I get into a fight with a black guy, and I call him "nigger" during the fight, is that a "hate crime"? Considering my above stories, couldn't I make a case that, in my formative years, I learned that word as being no more offensive than "man" or "dude"? Would a jury buy it?

-Or how about a customer at the motel I work for, an old black man who said to me "they should ship you back to Ireland"? (I swear it's true, Anna was on the phone listening to the whole thing!) Should I have denied him a room, and sued him for "hate speech", or just laughed it off? I laughed it off, of course.

However, I don't see a need to apologize for using "bad" words in my everyday speech (or my emails). I don't use racially polarizing words nearly as often as I use plain old profanity, which is supposed to be offensive to everyone.

While society is getting more permissive of general profanity, more and more words are deemed "politically incorrect" due to racial over-sensitivity. Well, I'm not buying it. The only person I have to worry about offending is the man who looks back at me in the mirror; he's the most honest judge of my character.

We're all human, and quite fallible. Once we accept this, maybe we can work around all of our individual "quirks" and "biases". I may hate what someone else has to say, but I will defend their right to say it, unless it actually incites others to break the law.

CHRISTOPHER K. LEAVITT

PLASTIC KARMA

I overdrew my debit card for the first time ever, the same week that I lost it, along with my wallet, on my way to my fiance's Christmas party. While it was bad karma to lose my wallet, and all of my ID, I'm sure whoever found it thought they hit the jackpot after seeing my Republican National Committee ID. Not all Republicans are rich, even in NY. They will be as sorely dissapointed as I was about the loss of my ID.

I CALL THAT PLASTIC KARMA

PS: I see the bright side; that I had no money in the wallet when I lost it, and that the card was useless to anyone who found it. I was able to correct both my arrears and get a new card at the same time, and the nice lady at the bank suggested a passport as a back-up ID.

NEXT: Reclaiming my ID before a potential ID theft! (Another bad move by the scammers, if they try)

UPDATE: Found my wallet at the bottom of my closet! Take that, imagined ID thieves!

2

2

1

1

OUT THE WINDOW: TALES FROM 48 W. 73RD STREET (THE VENDOME) 1974

Photo of my windows (center) facing Columbus Avenue. The window I jumped out of is around the right corner of the building.

I lived for a time at 46 W. 73rd St, and then moved next door to 48, which was on the SE corner of Columbus Ave (&73rd St.). My parents had separated, and my father lived in Freeport, Long Island. I stayed with him on weekends, being picked up either on Friday night, or Saturday morning. I had made some friends in Freeport, and preferred to be able to see them on Friday nights, of course. Well, one week, when I was about 12 years old, I thought I should be able to travel from Manhattan to Freeport alone on a Friday night. Mom would have none of this, of course. Dad would be coming in the morning to take me out to Freeport, and that was that. I was banished to my room, with 2 windows overlooking Columbus Ave, and a third window just one floor above the roof of the store next door.

I don't know exactly what posessed me that night, but I look back to my wish to be like Shaft, Spider-Man, and the Werewolf at that age, just as a guess. I put some clothes in a plastic bag, and scraped together the money for the subway and LIRR fare (I think it was $2.35 for the LIRR during off peak hours, and either 35 or 50 cents for the subway, though I'm not sure at all), and JUMPED OUT OF THE SIDE WINDOW, ONTO THE ROOF OF THE BUILDING NEXT DOOR. I sprained my ankle on that first jump, and then had to climb down the store's fire escape ladder, and hang- jump down onto Columbus Ave, about midway between 73rd and 72nd streets. I was hearing the theme from Shaft in my head as I limped down 72nd St. to the subway, and then to the LIRR, on my way to hang out with my friends in Freeport.

By the time I got to the Freeport LIRR station, it was past my usual curfew, and I had to walk the 2 miles to dad's place, because I had no money for a cab. I was starting to realize that this was not going to be worth what I had invested in it. Boy, I didn't know the half of it. When I arrived at St. Marks Ave, where dad lived, he was waiting at the door. NOT HAPPY. He invited me in, and asked me if I knew why my mother had so many nervous breakdowns. Of course, I had no clue. I was always the last one to know when mom got "spooky", as we called it, and I often unwittingly encouraged it. Little did I suspect, maybe not even during this incident, when my dad told me explicitly, that I might have added to her stress. Dad wasn't the only one; my older brother used to tell me that I (again, "unwittingly") used to put all kinds of pressure on mom. I didn't see it then, but do now. Now I see my fiance worrying about her adult (20 yr. old) daughter going out alone, and I understand.

There are alot more stories to be told about my life at 48 W. 73rd St. As I find the words to articulate them, I'll be writing them. This is what NEXTLEAV is for, after all. The personal side, and other stuff I wouldn't post on LEAVWORLD. Hope it's interesting, and helpful.

Seen and Not Seen

I got this in an email, and don't know who wrote it. Damn good, though.

Subject: To my friends and family: From a Mc Comb Resident


What I have seen since Katrina:

The poor and the wealthy hurt by the storm.

Black, White, Hispanic, Oriental and Indian all hurt by the storm.

Christian people giving, giving, giving.

Churches going all out to minister in Jesus' name.

Neighbors going door to door helping one another.

Thugs and hoodlums going door to door looking for someone vulnerable.

Ice and water being fought over as police tried to keep the peace.

People coming up from New Orleans taking over empty houses because shelters are full.

Out of town volunteers coming with food and staying for now a week still serving it.

The Churches all ! over this part of the country doing what Christians do in a crisis.

The Red Cross doing a great job in the shelters.

The Salvation Army doing a great job in the community.

Four Hundred crewman from everywhere bring back the power to our homes, churches and businesses.

Lines at service stations a block to a mile long.

National Guardsman patrolling the streets of Mc Comb along with Kentucky policemen protecting us from the hoodlums and thugs of Mc Comb, Pike County and New Orleans (the most dangerous city in the world before Katrina.)

Drug dealers working outside shelters.

Doctors, nurses and other hospital personnel working tirelessly, even sleeping in the hospital to do the job God called them to do.



WHAT I HAVE NOT SEEN;

The ACLU setting up a feeding line.

People for the American Way helping in the shelters.

The NAACP doing any work whatsoever.

The American Atheist organization serving meals in the shelters.

Jesse Jackson directing traffic at the gas stations.



I could go on but you get my message. Its the people with love and compassion who do the work.

The gripers in Congress should come on down and get in line to pass the water and the ice. Are you listening Hillary, Chuck, Teddy and all the sorry loafers we call Senators and Congressmen. They don't have a clue as to what this life is all about here on the Gulf Coast.

Boy I feel better now.

WEST IS A DIRECTION, WESTERN IS ALL CULTURES' DIRECTION

This could be pure nonsense, but why was the USSR considered "the Eastern block," though some of those Eastern nations now join many Far Eastern nations as part of the West, and our current war is about "Westernizing the Middle East?" I propose a geographic analogy:

These terms (North, South, East, and West) were coined before men knew the world was round. West was, and still is, a direction that one can travel; eventually we learned that travelling ever Westward can bring one back to the same point on Earth. The same goes for East, North, and South, or any other direction one can imagine, of course. West, however, has morphed into a cultural term. It now represents or influences cultures literally around the globe, some with very different histories than those originating "the West" as a culture.

Why has the West been so successful at changing so much of the world? Why is Eastern Europe so much more "Westernized" than Western Europe these days? Why do the Islaofascists in the Middle East plot terror against "Western" infidels, and rail against their influence? Because, much like West is a direction on the map, it has become a direction in human culture, including international politics. The general direction is toward greater individual freedom, but as in my geographic analogy, travelling too far "West" can bring a nation right back to oppression of individuals' rights that it was trying to escape. This has become a problem in the U.S, as well as much of Western Europe. Policies claiming to be "of public benefit" threaten to strangle individual freedoms, and the legal abdication of personal responsibility in favor of "deep pockets" lawsuits or "social justice" helps propagate these policies. The U.S, as the leading Western nation, should be on the forefront, fighting to curtail abuses of it's own government bureaucracy against citizens, especially (but not solely) those of the judicial branch.

But I digress.

Successful countries adopt Western policies that enhance their productivity first, as Japan, Taiwan, and others have done, with political freedoms following in each case. Not every society takes a "due West" course. Each nation that "Westernizes" does so differently. China is an example of a nation that has adopted Western economic policies, while maintaining a Communist dictatorship. This will test the theory of economic freedom bringing about political freedom. While China poses a major threat, it is not as great as the Soviets presented at the height of the Cold War. Right now, we must take care of the business at hand in Afghanistan and Iraq, and insure that these countries move in a western direction, expanding individual freedoms. To do any less invites enlarging the suffering in those nations, and adding to the next potential threat to "the West," regardless of how many here at home hate that idea. The internal opponents of the "West" only have the luxury of hating the West because of the freedoms provided them under Western free speech policies, so they really don't have a valid argument against "Westernization."

ATTACKS BY STRANGERS

After hearing the sad story about a young woman on L.I. who was attacked after asking for directions from, and getting in the car, of a stranger, I remember a similar situation that happened to me a few blocks from the same place in 1978 or so. I was 15, and had just walked a drunk friend home, when a stranger in a car asked directions to a street on the other side of town. Being drunk myself, I got in his car, with the assurance that he would give me a ride back to my house, which was in between where we were and where he was going. Unfortunately, I directed him to the wrong street, and when I remembered which street to go to, he had other ideas. He offered me money to give me oral sex, which I declined. As I unlocked the door of his car (while moving), he reached over, locked it, and wrapped his arm around my neck. I punched him in the face, unlocked and opened the car door, and jumped out, safely skidding to a stop on the fresh snow in the street. I broke off the nearest street-level tree branch, and ran along side of the closest house, waiting for him to reappear. After a while, I started walking home, meeting some friends in a car who gave me a ride. I told them this story, because it wasn't anything more than something to talk about, having survived it unscathed. A few years later, I found another friend had been accosted by the same fat black guy with glasses, in the same white car. My friend used his large pocket knife to get out of his situation, without having to actually use it violently.

Serial rapists/pedophiles come in all sexual orientations, and have been around since before anyone reading this was born. Women aren't the only ones at risk. Everyone thinks about how bad the kids are today, but there is always some adult who is worse. Look at my anecdotal story. I, and one of my friends fought this guy off, but how many times was he successful? Where are those kids now? I'm scared of today's adult predators, which is an alarm worth ringing. Let's hope today's kids are as up to fighting them off as my friend and I were.

BAR ART GALLERY

WLCOME TO LEAV'S BAR ART GALLERY! These pieces were drawn on coasters, napkins, and scrap paper at a number of local bars. Some aren't that good, but worth a laugh.

BUG-EYED SKULL MONSTER

ALIEN SPACE CREATURE

SELF-PORTRAIT '99

BAR HEART: WHEN SYMBOLS ATTACK

DEMON PIRATE

KISS VAMPIRE

LIZARD KING

WOLVERINE

DINOSAUR

BIRD-MONSTER

MUTE

NEXTLEAVWORLD: POLITICAL ARTWORK!

MY POLITICAL ART ARCHIVE

DEAN & GORE - THE LIBERAL SIDESHOW

KERRY is DUKAKIS... I TOLD YOU SO!

I'M A REPUBLICAN, NOT A RACIST!

THREE RELIGIONS UNDER ONE FLAG!

THE DEATH SQUAD'S PRESENT TO THE U.N!

WARRIOR W PART I

WARRIOR W PART II

WARRIOR W PART III

THEY CAME TO DIE. WE DIDN'T.

SADDAM, OSAMA, ARAFAT are BLOOD BROTHERS, DEATH TO THEM ALL!

JO HURT: Art and Audio Clip of Mom singing "ZIP"

My late mother was a Broadway actress in the '50's, before I was born. Her stage name was Jo Hurt, and the high point of her career was in 1950, when she appeared in "Pal Joey." I found a page on Amazon.com with a short audio clip, and thought I'd share it. My Godmother, Elaine Stritch, is currently appearing at Lincoln Center in NYC, though I haven't seen her in over 20 years. She also recorded "ZIP" in 1952, on a different cast recording. This link is to the page with my mom's version. Just click on the "samples" link, then pick the song "ZIP" when you get there. That's my mom!

This is a Jon Whitcomb painting of her, done in the early 1950's. It was altered to look like a Cosmopolitan magazine cover by her agent.



...and this is a sketch of her from 1945, done on the Pacific USO tour with Bob Hope.







I'm really proud of her, and it's nice to show it.

LEAVART: LONE WOLF!

These are links to all of the LONE WOLF art on my LEAVART site. New posts will be linked.

LONE WOLF
-Comic, page One
-as STARWOLF!
-T-Shirt Design (April 1983)
-Blood Trail
-LONE WOLF DESIGNS composite
-with EVERYBODY, under LONE WOLF DESIGNS
-CHRISTMAS WEREWOLF, with bloodshot blue eyes!
-GOLD WOLF?
-"12 DAYS OF THE CHRISTMAS WEREWOLF"

STARBORN GALLERY! - LEAVART

These are links to all of my drawings of STARBORN on my LEAVART site. I'll add links as I post new drawings. The links are to the drawings, with comments about some of the drawings at the original LEAVART posts:

STARBORN: 2 DIFFERENT VIEWS
Color "Makeover"
STARBORN: Lost Image
STARBORN: "Purple Invasion"
Starborn Comic Art: Page 2 Detail
Starborn, Solaris, Wavelord, Silver Surfer, and Co...
STARBORN CAPTURED BY "EVIL GUMBY!"
STARBORN COMIC: PAGE ONE
STARBORN! Close up!
-IF ONLY (WORLD TRADE CENTER TRIBUTE)
-with BABES
-1978
-Defending the Earth
-with COSMOS and WAVELORD
-Grim Looking
-Page 2 & 3 of STARBORN comic
-Kickin Back on a Gray Day
-Solar Flare
-with WAVELORD and SOLARIS
-with EVERYBODY!

La Shawn Barber: Takin' the Heat!

I recently posted a comment on La Shawn Barber's blog, in response to a post about her being called an "uncle tom" and worse by some commenters. When I returned home and checked the comments, I got a taste of what she puts up with. Notice how the commenter (someone calling themselves HiRez) equates the shunning of a Black Republican (for more than his position on reparations) with the ACTUAL KILLING going on in the Palestinian areas. As for Israelis being killed for supporting the Palestinians, it doesn't happen. Israel has Arab legislators who openly support the Palestinians. The assasination of the Prime Minister was a rare attack by an Israeli terrorist, not a daily occurence.

"HiRez" also takes issue with my use of the term "race baiting", but what is calling someone an "uncle tom", if not race baiting? For the record, calling anyone who justly criticizes a Black person a racist, without addressing the criticism, is also "race baiting." Read on:


Ms. Barber, what is happening to you is symptomatic of what happens to anyone who opposes an entrenched ideology. Palestinians who want peace with Israel are murdered in the streets as traitors for doing the same thing you are doing. You are a voice of sanity that is sorely needed in the US today. Looking at the decline of the MSM, I’m glad to see people on the forefront of the next media wave have a more reasoned point of view. These attacks on you, and bloggers in general, as a "conservative white male" surrogate are simple race baiting, as I’ve written about on my www.nextleav.blogspot.com site. I have to be honest, and admit that I haven’t published any of my more controversial pieces on race on my main political blog, www.leavworld.blogspot.com. You give me courage not to be ashamed to be called a racist when expressing an opinion informed by facts or personal experience. I have a comic art blog, www.leavart.blogspot.com, where I am going to post an awesome piece of art that says: I’M A REPUBLICAN, NOT A RACIST! Though I’ve emailed it to a few friends in the past, I wasn’t sure I would ever post it. I know this sounds like a pitch for readers on my websites, but look at them yourself, and decide if they’re worth posting. You are one of my favorite writers since I first read you on the JWR website. I’m new to blogging, and hope you like what I’m doing, too.
Comment by Chris Leavitt - 03.16.05 @ 8:12 am


This is symptomatic of the hypocrisy I am talking about…
Posted by the guy advertising his blog…CHRIS LEVIT…(sic)
"Ms. Barber, what is happening to you is symptomatic of what happens to anyone who opposes an entrenched ideology."
Could being a conservative be an entrenched ideology?
"Palestinians who want peace with Israel are murdered in the streets as traitors for doing the same thing you are doing."
As are Israeli’s who oppose the persecution of Palestinians…
What occurs if we reframe…and say…CONSERVATIVES are slain in Republican Circles for saying publicly they believe in reperations (Alan Keyes) or that they strongly believe in Affirmative Action (Colin Powell)…
"(these attacks) As a 'conservative white male surrogate' are simple race baiting,"
The biggest logical fallacy in argumentation I have seen EVER by people who want to minimize or chastising dialogue and discussion on race is this one…either some is "playing the race card" or they are "race baiting"…which is every much an ad hominem attack on the person presenting the discussion as if the argument is invalidated as illogical because the person presenting it is using it for what you deam as a perverse purpose…
And this further illustrates my disgust with partisan politics and ideological crusaders…maybe I will go back to being an independent…
Comment by HiRez - 03.16.05 @ 9:18 am


Speaking as someone who is not and has never been a member of any political party, I think that’s a good idea. And about this:
This is symptomatic of the hypocrisy I am talking about…Could being a conservative be an entrenched ideology?
This is man’s condition, HiRez. You’re not above it and I’m not above it. Whatever you want to call it, you have an entrenched ideology, too, and if you say you don’t you’re being disingenuous. The important point is what is true, not how many ways we can attack labels.
Comment by La Shawn - 03.16.05 @ 9:25 am

Dear La Shawn,WOW! There were zero comments posted when I wrote mine! Now there are over 50! It looks like I got HiRez’ panties in a bunch almost as much as you do! Thanks for defending my right to my own ideology. Meanwhile, you keep calling ‘em as you see ‘em. I agreed with everything you said in your post and comments, and now I’m going back to read more.
Have a great day, from Chris
comment by Chris Leavitt — 03.17.05 @ 1:06 am

JUXTAPOSITION: IDEAS AT WAR

This is a combination of 2 pieces from very different sources. I liked the way they worked together. The opening paragraph and every other is by (American) Don Monkerud, from his o2/07 piece "The new Americanism: The Eichmann Syndrome". The second paragraph and every other is by Matthias Dapfner, Chief Executive of the huge German publisher Axel Springer AG, in his piece "
EUROPE - THY NAME IS COWARDICE "-no date available. Read on:

As the world mourns the anniversary of the Holocaust, we continue to wonder how one of the most advanced countries in the world could commit such an atrocity. We forget that the slaughter didn't occur overnight but took years to set up. Little by little individuals assuaged their consciences and found it advantageous to go along with authority, committing a number of small acts, ultimately culminating in genocide.

Appeasement crippled Europe when genocide ran rampant in Kosovo, and even though we had absolute proof of ongoing mass-murder, we Europeans debated and debated and debated, and were still debating when finally the Americans had to come from halfway around the world, into Europe yet again, and do our work for us.

While we are not Nazis yet, Americans appear blind to the irrational justifications that are leading us to engage in a holy crusade that bodes well for no one. Will we continue to allow a minority, driven by irrational and anti-rational Christian beliefs, to transform our society? Or will our acquiescence lead us one day to find ourselves marching beside Adolf Eichmann?


Appeasement cost millions of Jews and non-Jews their lives as England and France, allies at the time, negotiated and hesitated too long before they noticed that Hitler had to be fought, not bound to toothless agreements. Rather than protecting democracy in the Middle East, European appeasement, camouflaged behind the fuzzy word "equidistance," now countenances suicide bombings in Israel by fundamentalist Palestinians.

Our bombs have killed up to 100,000 people in Iraq and we justify our continued occupation as "bringing democracy to the world." President Bush won the election based on "strong leadership," and surrounds himself with Federalist Society lawyers who believe in the supreme power of the president. Congress promises to dismantled our social programs and allow us to compete against corporations and the wealthy, who already own 85 percent of the nation's assets. Giant corporations such as SBC and AT&T are allowed to merge, lay off 25,000 workers, and control our public utilities. Republicans muscle laws through Congress to benefit the rich, while increasing funds for domestic spying, the military and a narrowly defined "moral agenda."

Appeasement generates a mentality that allows Europe to ignore nearly 500,000 victims of Saddam's torture and murder machinery and, motivated by the self-righteousness of the peace-movement, has the gall to issue bad grades to George Bush.. Even as it is uncovered that the loudest critics of the American action in Iraq made illicit billions, no, TENS of billions, in the corrupt UN Oil-for-Food program.

Patriotism transforms into national chauvinism-against "old Europe" and the rest of the world-and even those opposed to the Iraq military adventure support "our troops." Environmental laws are dismantled. Religious faith replaces common sense and science. Our Secretary of Defense justifies using atomic weapons on the battlefield. Republicans who railed against Clinton "lying," ignore Bush's lies about WMD and change congressional rules that would allow an indicted Tom DeLay to retain his leadership position. The American people remain quiescent, good citizens, fulfilling their primary role as consumers. Are we in danger of becoming like Adolf Eichmann?

One cannot help but recall Britain's Neville Chamberlain waving the laughable treaty signed by Adolf Hitler, and declaring European "Peace in our time". What else has to happen before the European public and its political leadership get it? There is a sort of crusade underway, an especially perfidious crusade consisting of systematic attacks by fanatic Muslims, focused on civilians, directed against our free, open Western societies, and intent upon Western Civilization's utter destruction. It is a conflict that will most likely last longer than any of the great military conflicts of the last century - a conflict conducted by an enemy that cannot be tamed by "tolerance" and "accommodation" but is actually spurred on by such gestures, which have proven to be, and will always be taken by the Islamists for signs of weakness.

Anyone with a smattering of awareness today questions the path down which our leaders are taking us. Consider the direction. As America pursues an aggressive military policy-Bush's preemptive strike-invading Iraq and Afghanistan, threatening to bomb Iran and North Korea, and imposing our economic form of corporate democracy around the world, Americans are becoming more nationalistic and more willing to support acts we considered totally unacceptable in the past.

Only two recent American Presidents had the courage needed for anti-appeasement: Reagan and Bush. His American critics may quibble over the details, but we Europeans know the truth. We saw it first hand: Ronald Reagan ended the Cold War, freeing half of the German people from nearly 50 years of terror and virtual slavery. And Bush, supported only by the Social Democrat Blair, acting on moral conviction, recognized the danger in the Islamic War against democracy. His place in history will have to be evaluated after a number of years have passed.

It's almost comical to see how much more a bigwig German executive "gets it" than one of our own "home grown" pinhead liberal writers. Still, I can't vouch for either of these as the true sources of this writing. I got one in the email, and the other is from "the progressive mind" website, which is linked in my "Blogs I differ with" post on my Leavworld blog. Either way, the ideas at war are fairly well defined in this little hodgepodge, so take a side and comment, damnit!

Jenny Martinez on the kidnapped GI JOE doll

This is from Jenny Martinez' great military blog: http://www.jenmartinez.com/mt/
How Bizarre
Apparently, out of some sort of desperation, a group of shitrags in Iraq have kidnapped a GI Joe doll . Yes that's right, a doll. In fact, it looks remarkably like the Soldier doll my ex bought in Kuwait and sent to our son.
"Our mujahideen have managed to capture the American soldier John Adam after killing a number of his colleagues," said the Mujahideen shitrags in the undated statement on a Web site monitored in Dubai. It threatened to kill him."
Granted I did play with dolls as a child but I would like to know exactly how one goes about "killing" a doll. Since dolls are not alive and all...
Liam Cusack, marketing coordinator for Dragon Models USA said the picture appeared to show a special forces operative figure the company had made for collectors. Cusack said the striking similarity between his company's action figure, which was marketed under the name "Cody," and the published picture, were pointed out to him early on Tuesday by an Arizona retailer. "I worked on the development of that figure so I had seen the look of that head before." Cusack, speaking from his office at City of Industry, California, noted the rifle being pointed at the figure in the photograph posted on the Web site also appeared to be the plastic M4 rifle included with the figure.

FOLLOW THE FREEDOM free thoughts

Follow the pattern of freedom around the world in recent history, and its setbacks. All of Eastern Europe is democratic, and still China continues to supress not only it's own people, but it's neighboring countries' populations. Worse is North Korea, whose conditions truly rival Hitler's Germany, and I do not exaggerate! That people escape into Communist China, gladly to suffer what passes for comfort there, only emphasises the horror that has been sparsely reported on, but known for what it is. Pres. Putin, who once headed the KGB, part of No. Korea's support system, must know of some way to end this horror of a regime. It seems that he is preoccupied with reasserting Russian hegemony, at least over Russia. Putin will use his influence with No. Korea to keep us out of his business with China and Iran, unless Bush gets tough. Follow the freedom movements in all three of those countries, for they may hold the key to a different future than that predicted by most of the "doom and gloom" liberals. Pres. Bush has comitted to giving Iran a truly Democratic neighbor to make the Mullahs look bad. Democratic Ukraine is going to make Putin play ball with the west, and China's economic growth will soon breed more money than they will know what to do with, other than buy the rest of the world. This makes them the largest repressive Capitalist country in the world. Wal Mart is their biggest consumer of goods, and is known for imposing conditions on it's suppliers. Do you think Wal-Mart's existence could be justified to the Wal-Mart haters if they brought democracy to China?