‘How I Found the Mudcat’ – Folklore Society Getaway weekend (Prince William Forest Park, Va.). A tribute to the great ones – Sandy and Carolyn Paton, Big Mick, Songster Bob, Ferrara, Max, Joe O., Jennifer, Barry Finn….and a cast of characters.
A memoir by Tim, Fred, Wiley, Izzy, whatever. It really doesn’t matter because …
You Won’t Remember My Name
Prelude to Amuse-meant
The Hero’s Journey, an archetypal human story, finds an ordinary person, gives (in this case him) a task he is not equal to and forces him to undertake it. In the course of his journey, the task becomes more difficult and the man loses every advantage and guide he started with. He must learn to rely on himself and, to accept the aid of those he encounters. The essential task does not change but, his means for accomplishing it are so different from when he began that it is only his loyalty to its completion that sustains him. The man able to meet the challenge is thereby transformed into a Hero. But for every hero, there are countless people who fail.
I keep an index of these failed heroes in a Fools Row Lineup I’d like to share with you. Most of the usual suspects are there.
Character List (Fools Row Lineup – partial list)
And so, we supplicate to the Muse of our story with a benediction and prayer.
Accidental Journey
Accidental Writing
I started writing these ‘Walter Mitty’ daydreams and flights of fancy when I first met the Hulk: Halloween night, 1977. Jay, the body-building manager of Main Street’s Wildflour Pizza Parlour, announces to us, pizza-slinging doughboys, that his friend from the gym will be stopping by later this evening. It seems that this guy from Joe Gold’s World Gym, named Lou, is looking to get out with the spooks and the crazies.
To thicken the plot, Jay’s tip is overheard by the drag queen manager of a neighborhood cabaret, a fellow decked out in a wig, brassiere and fishnet stockings, just stopped by the Wildflour to make change from our cash drawer. On the lookout for excitement, this fairy tale barfly exhorts Jay to bring Lou by the club. So, as time slides into the late goblin hours, this guy, Lou, appears in his extra-gantageous self and asks for dinner in ‘the usual way’ (antipasto salad, no olives). He turns one ear to the dining room crowd and chats to Jay and us cooks.
“What’s up?” he asks. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I say. “Just fine, Lou.”
While Jay and Lou discuss the night’s misadventures with the bizarre ambience of the gay crowd across the street, I hang up my apron, wash and get ready to leave.
“Hey guy,” the big boys call. “Are you looking for a wild time. Want to join as for this Halloween party?”
“Not tonight, thanks,” I say. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”
Maybe I see you later, Lou – in the car I drive, the fan mags I collect, or event in person, Lou. Maybe I’ll see you later.
A few years later, I encounter the Hulk again (second time) at Close Encounters of the Safeway Kind. Right here, in Boulder, CO. Well, if that don’t beat all! There you are, Lou, in the Sunday newspaper, looking good as ever and making a local appearance right here in town – “Come out and meet Lou (The Hulk) Ferrigno and sample his new nutritional snack bars – next Tuesday at the Boulder Safeway.”
After work, on the day of this promotional event, my buddy, davidmack and I hop into my Dodge Dart Swinger (named Lou) and head over to the Safeway to meet the spirit of my car in person. Hey, big guy – I see you in the crowd signing autographs and looking massive as ever. Your bicep bursting body sits poised at the display table, surrounded by candy bars, body-building books and a couple of two-bit, polyester types hovering suspiciously behind, monitoring for crowd control, I think. Who are deez guys – Superfly hustlers trying to pay the rent with your name? Lou don’t need no bodyguards!
In my car, in my mind and in my words, Lou is bigger than life. That’s why I’m here today with the admiring public and children chasing autographs. Your persona, Lou, rides with me on the highways, like a modern Saint Christopher, protecting this wayward driver from another fender bender. Your presence inspires the quiet strength of imagination, which guards me daily, ever since that thread of conversation in a pizza parlour, on Halloween a few years ago. Whether he knows it or not, Lou occupies that place in me where the strength of imagination, the power of the creative will, tempers all that revolves around this crazy world in the chaos of my own mundane existence. And here you are now, in the supermarket, selling health food bars. Wow! In a flash, I intrude this promotional stunt to say, “Excuse me, Mr. Ferrigno, remember me? I used to make pizzas at the Wildflour.”
Nervously, I pause, fearful he may have forgotten our meaningful encounter. The Polyester Man casts a baleful look in my direction, about to disassemble my frame in a moment’s notice. Lou gazes up from his work, blinks an eye and says, “You mean Jay, Steve and his wife, uh …”
“Wendy,” I say, prompting his memory at last.
“Yeah, I remember you. What are you doing here?” he asks as if he does not perceive the chrono-synclastic nature of this reunion.
“I live here, Lou. I’m married and live outside of town.”
And now, in a flash, he understands.
“Hey, you’re the guy that used to make the antipasto, right?“
He stands up, putting aside this supermarket scene for the energy bar firm and turns to the passers-by, to announce, once again, “Hey everybody – this is the guy who used to make me antipasto!“
No one seems to notice but, I stand in Lou’s shadow, too humble for words. My friend, davidmack snaps a fews photos. I thank Lou and we leave, taking with me an autograph, a box of health food bars and a taste of that indestructible presence of Mind Out of Time. That evening, I eat a half-dozen of the Go-rilla protein bars and in my dream, I am transported to some new power spot of the universe. I am wretched sick for the next few days and in my enfeebled state, arrive at the moral conclusion to this story (My Secret Life with Lou) –
Taste the power of imagination but Don’t bite off more than Lou can chew. It’s not easy being Green!
Accidental Leap Year
STARSHIP LOG – 1st entry
PLANET EARTH (Blue Marble, 3rd Rock from the Sun) Century-Year – 21st, 2020 Everybody (I mean everybody) is BUMMED OUT COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red
Do you copy? I repeat – do you copy?
Mayday, Mayday. We are having a Leap Year this year.
There’s an extra day on the calendar (February 29th) throwing our world off its 22-degree axis. Babies born this day will only celebrate birthdays every four years. They shall age so much slower than all of us. Slower, but wiser. For God’s sake, it’s an Election Year. Planetary, pandemic pandemonium prevails in populations around the world. We are seized with CoronaVirus Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt (FUD). This a Leap Year alert (can’t we skip this one and go to the next?). Unfortunately, that will take an act of God or Congress, neither of whom have the will to act. Profound indifference casts a pall over Life as we know it.
Knock, knock.
Hello.
A voice calls to me through Time and the decades of my life. I was born in a Leap Year (1952). Post-World War II prime vintage Baby Boomer stock. Bluesman John Lee Hooker wrote a song in the ’60s about my arrival here – blue-eyed, blond-haired, cute as a button second baby boy to Bob the Father (BtF) and Carol the Mother (CtM):
BOOM BOOM by John Lee Hooker (performed by Eric Burden and the Animals) Boom boom boom boom Gonna shoot you right down Take you in my arms I’m in love with you Love that is true
Boom boom boom boom I like the way you walk I like the way you talk When you walk that walk And you talk that talk You knock me out
BOOM (there was this war – WWII)
BOOM BOOM – My parents saw themselves in a mirror. And they fell in love with the mirror. A couple of innocents. Carol the Mother (CtM) was the beautiful blond-haired daughter of the Mayor of flipping Beverly Hills. A popular, sociable, ‘most likely to succeed’, ingenue of her day. Bob the Father (BtF) was an intellectual diamond, only son of his widowed mother, Esther who came West from New York in the early 1930s, to live with her extended family of Jewish brothers, aunts and cousins.
BtF sailed through coursework with the soaring wings of a legal eagle. Phi Beta Kappa (UCLA Journalism), Political Science Masters from Columbia, J.D. from USC. ‘The Producers’, as I affectionately call my parents, spent the post-war years in London, where BtF worked as an Associated Press correspondent, writing wire stories for the trade. They lived in trendy Sloan Square and at night, could listen to Noel Coward at the piano bar in the local pub, singing the wit and wisdom of the post-war songs to an appreciative crowd of BOOM BOOMers.
The producers came back to the States. A child was born (brother David – DtB). A job for BtF arrived with Grandfather David’s prestigious Beverly Hills law firm. A second son arrived. He was given the name Timothy (like the Apostle except, there are no Christians in our family tree). This was a Leap Year (1952) so, I jumped.
BOOM BOOM BOOM – In the recombinent Jewish subculture of Southern California, our families changed partners several times. I know; I have all the pictures. Dorothy, the stepmother (DtSM) had introduced CtM to BtF. She was a bridesmaid at their wedding where, it is said that actress Jeannette McDonald sang to the newlyweds and well-wishing Weil wedding attendees. How cool is that?
Matt the Stepfather (MtSF) preceded BtF as editor of the LA High School newspaper (1930s). MtSF was a scion of a famous Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) producer, who won the Academy Award for the first movie musical, Broadway Melodies (1929). MtSF was off to Dartmouth and the Navy. There is a photo of BtF and CtM, poolside with MtSF and his wife (3 sons) and their friends, Al and Arlene. I know, I have all the pictures.
When I was nine-months old, a housekeeper to BtF/CtM set me down on a kitchen counter. I jumped (fell) into the vacuum of attention that surrounded our domestic life. As BB King sings, “The Thrill is Gone. The Thrill is Gone for Good.”
When I went to the doctor, a cast was applied to my broken left leg. I was a bit of a carpet crawler longer than most babies. There’s a photo of my shiner, when I crawled into a door and got a black eye. In my love of myth, pal davidmack might say, “Gosh darn Tim. Some people Study the Way. Others Follow the Way. You just Get in the Way.”
Makes sense to me. I always fantasized that I was the male child of Amazonian women who were said to have broken the legs of toddlers, so they would become better lovers in Life.
BOOM BOOM BOOM (reverb) – An Accidental Leap Year began my Hero’s journey through Life. When I gaze back to my date of birth, I’m always seeing the launching of HMS Titanic – leaving Southampton on 10 April 1912 (leap year). Titanic called at Cherbourg in France and Queenstown (now Cobh) in Ireland, before heading west to New York. On 14 April, four days into the crossing and about 375 miles (600 km) south of Newfoundland, she hit an iceberg, at 11:40pm ship’s time. I see myself standing on the dock, waving to the passengers. “Have a good trip,” I say.
I know. I had one (a good trip, that is). I didn’t sink the ship; I just had a front row seat to catastrophe.
Bonds of Brothers
In my office, I keep photos, lots of photos. Digital images, old 35mm slides, a few boxes of prints and albums of course, lots of photo albums. A favorite is this picture of Christmas, 1962 in Malibu, CA. Six brothers are here from three different sets of parents. My brother, David and I are in the first row. My stepbrothers are here in tennis sweaters and a front row lad with hand-covered eyes. My new baby half-brother shown with CtM beaming by the shimmering Christmas tree. CtM’s maiden name was Tannenbaum and she loved the Christmas season. We were a Jewish family (of sorts) but, holidays were interchangeable for us.
STARSHIP LOG – 2nd entry
PLANET EARTH (Blue Marble, 3rd Rock from the Sun) Century-Year – 21st, 2020 Everybody (I mean everybody) is BUMMED OUT COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red
Let’s circle the family and ZOOM into each other’s predicament. Let’s turn this thing around. Let’s get back on course.
In these archives of memory, word snippets and photo images, I have history books as well. Lots of history books. I’m particularly fond of Stephen Ambrose and his vast work of Americana, Undaunted Courage (Lewis and Clark), D-Day, Nothing Like it in the World (my-story), Wild Blue and yes, Band of Brothers. I mention these only because years back (a decade or so), my high-school sweetie and I were corresponding on the occasion of our Santa Monica High School reunion.
“Did I ever tell you that my Dad, Kenyon Webster, was chronicled in that book?” (Band of Brothers)
Private First-Class David Kenyon Webster was an American soldier, journalist and author. During World War II, he was a private with E Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment in the 101st Airborne Division. His book, Parachute Infantry Man, inspired Ambrose’s Band of Brothers book. Kenyon died in the 1960s, studying sharks in Santa Monica Bay but, I do digress. Baby BOOMers, Bands of Brothers, bonds of brothers and boys behaving badly are part of my DNA.
ZOOM ZOOM ZOOM
Zoom Zoom Zoom
I spend this morning ZOOMing into the lives of my brothers who, frankly don’t know me from Adam. In fact, when I visit their California beach homes over the holidays, I am often greeted, at the door, with these cautionary remarks – “Nice to see you brother Tim (TtB). Come in, come in. Please leave your stories and jokes outside the door.”
Even so, it is testimony to the Bonds of Brothers that we are still in touch with a kinship beyond our early years. Those days, the posse time, are reflected in the great book, Lord of the Flies (William Golding), when unsupervised young men found many ways of hurting one another. I know; I felt all the lumps. No adult supervision. An interchangeable set of nuclear families that went BOOM.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM (Missing the Picture)
STARSHIP LOG – 3rd entry
PLANET EARTH (Blue Marble, 3rd Rock from the Sun) Century-Year – 21st, 2020 Everybody (I mean everybody) is BUMMED OUT COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red
We are scanning for Black Holes in the Universe We are scanning for Black Holes in our Lives We are scanning for Black Holes in our Hearts
We have found evidence of life on Earth. It is a poem.
What is Being Forgotten? by Eloise Klein Healy
Quickly. What is being forgotten? Shirts On a line with stiff arms. Dampening bottles with cork-rimmed lids. Rainwater heated and sprinkled on white shirts. The wooden legs of the ironing board and the iron heating air like hot bread. Shirts flattening under the iron. That every shirt needed ironing is being forgotten.
In my collection of musings, Fools Gallery, spun yarns, word pictures, memories and photographs, I am still Missing the Picture. I’m missing the picture of my father’s soul (BtF) when he received the letter from CtM saying, “I’m leaving you and taking the boys with me.” – BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
I can still feel the reverberations of Bob the Father’s pain, collapse and yes, his breakdown echoing in time. Ironically, that was his gift to me. The ‘hole in the heart’ was passed to me many years later, in my early 20s, when I found that ‘I didn’t have a leg to stand on’. Into this personal void came these words, where life and family collapse and, stories and characters spin out from our generation – BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
I am a proud survivor of the BOOMers generation.
STARSHIP LOG – 4th entry
PLANET EARTH (Blue Marble, 3rd Rock from the Sun) Century-Year – 21st, 2020 Everybody (I mean everybody) is BUMMED OUT COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red COVID-19 Pandemic Alert. Code Red
We are all on an Accidental Journey, perhaps. In my case, I was lucky enough to right the course and find a safer landing.
Gunnison Gorge, Gunnison Gorge Gunnison Gorge, Gunnison Gorge
Where canyons rise and eagles soar Rafting waters, outfitters tour
The river drifts, the white waters roar Fly fishing the Gunny without any lures
Past ancient cliffs of Gunnison Gorge Ancient river where Time endures.
1st Riddle – What’s the difference between a banjo and a harmonica?
Eb – D Harp Walking Scale Wiley on the River
On the Trail of the Tale
An ancient canyon, running river, wilderness adventure is a channel for music. Folkloric music. Ringing thru the air, Walking Down the Line, Fishing Blues and Tom Dooley piping thru the wind organs of the wild. Piping thru the wind organs of the wild.
From the trailhead the Chukar Trail[1] begins descending right from the start. There are very few level spots the entire distance. The overall elevation change is 1000 feet and distance is a trekking mile. Switchbacks are built in to make the steep grade more manageable. The trail eventually enters the wash where it passes through the cliffs and down to the river. Wiley the pack mule lugs in 45 lbs in of gear in a dry bag slung with backpack shoulder straps. [1]https://www.gjhikes.com/2014/04/chukar-trail.html
With no more than a blister to show (at first) he hears these refrains –Arlo Guthrie at Woodstock in ’69 singing Bob Dylan’s Walking Down the Line to 400,000 freaks. In typical Arlo fashion, he hesitates a bit. As did Wiley at the bottom of the trail – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-4NAJmqfzI
Walking Down the Line (Bob Dylan 1963)
G C/g G C/g G I got my walkin’ shoes
Well, I’m walkin’ down the line, I got my walkin’ shoes
C/g G I got my walkin’ shoes
I’m walkin’ down the line An’ I ain’t a-gonna lose
C/g G I believe I got the walkin’ blues
An’ I’m walkin’ down the line.
C/g G Well, I’m walkin’ down the line,
My feet’ll be a-flyin’ I’m walkin’ down the line
D7sus4 C/g G An’ I’m walkin’ down the line.
To tell about my troubled mind. My feet’ll be a-flyin’
Tell you ‘bout my twisted spine, knee, leg.
At the base of the Chukar Trail, where the shore meets the river, Wiley unloads the dry bag and starts sorting gear when his trick knee kicks in. SPROING! The pack mule load unwinds on his leg like a coil spring and wilderness adventure Wiley is now the 1st crip on the trip. His tightened IT-band, knee sprain injury is old news. He’ll has to deal with it in the here and now. On the river.
2nd Riddle- What walks on 4 legs in the morning, 2 legs in the afternoon and 3 legs in the evening?
Overboard Anglers
Some came for the day, some for overnight. Some came to guide, some to ride, some to fish and some to float. Three boats on the river. Looking for rainbow trout and browns, fishermen rigged their gear from fancy fly boxes. Elk-haired cadis, streamers, bright plastic moths glowing in the water. Like Taj Mahal singing to the Gunny –
Fishing Blues (Henry Thomas)
I went down to my favorite fishin’ hole,
Baby, grabbed me a pole and line
Cast it to the left, cast it to the right
Land that fly where the fish will bite
Browns and rainbows swimming around
Smooth river flows without a sound
Many fish bites if you got good bait,
here’s a little tip I would like to relate.
Many fish bites if you got good bait,
I’m a-goin’ fishin’,yes,
I’m a-goin’ fishin’ in the Gunny Gorge river too!
Father and son, wading in the water
Landing everything in sight
Back in the boat, fishing the waters
Left back home the mothers and the daughters
Many fish bites if you got good bait,
But when you’re tossed overboard it’s a fast moving lake
Keep your head up, feet first downstream
Don’t panic in the water or try to scream
While you’re splashing in the cold Gunny Gorge!
After a day and a half on the river all wilderness rafters make it back to the
campground. Alive. Tired and Dusty. With a hitch in his get-away, Wiley
hobbles over to the bar / store / stool to hang out with the good ol’ boys from the
local outfitters shooting the breeze about the river and rafters.
‘What’ll you have’, asks the barkeep?’
‘PBR like everyone else I guess.’
‘What’s your name son?’
‘Look at the label – PBR. That’s me – Peter Brown Robinson. Get it?’
Guffaw, guffaw.
Bidding the bubbas goodbye, Wiley drags himself back to camp to pack up and go.That’s where Wiley meets Dually bringing back to mind the murder, musicballad – Tom Dooley.
They’re selling posters of the surfers. Celebrities all around.
Developers and real estate, buying up the ground.
Here comes the fire commissioner, the hills are all ablaze.
Sheriffs and their deputies chasing the bums away.
While right-wingers and the lefties fighting in the headline news
Crowds push thru the turnstiles to the three-ring circus blues
Wonderland – the first arena
Miramar by the sea. Look at me. Look at me. Miramar by the sea. What is
beautiful needs no adorning. Blessed be the Gods of Real Estate and
show business, Miramar has been an enclave of the motion picture
industry since the late 1920s when groups of actors, actresses and movie
officials established the Colony, a Pacific Riviera on a mile-long strip
of beach just west of a natural estuary and lagoon. This tract of land, and
golden sands, developed from the massive Fringe estate, a property
spanning 26 miles of scenic beauty along the California Coast Rancho
Miramar built as a farm near the ocean, under the lee of themountains, with
brook trout, wild trees, good soil, and excellent climate. On 13,000 acres of
this SoCal estate the Fringe family built a private railroad, a dam,
commercial dairy, oil wells, a ceramic tile factory, horse ranches and a
family home adjoining one of the most desirable surfing beaches in the
world. From the late 1950s, your narrator’s family homes were built on
Miramar by the sea. Look at me. What is beautiful needs no adorning.
Fire on the Mountain – the second arena
Now ladies and gentlemen, let’s turn our attention to ringmaster Wiley
Timmons here in the center stage where you’ve never seen the frowns on
the jugglers and the clowns while they all do tricks for you. Watch as we
take you down, down, down through the burning rings of fire as the
story of Mira-mar is quickly retold through the history of fire on the
mountain. Over the past 100 years 30 fires have burned thru the hills,
homes and wild life of this beautiful coastal and mountain terrain. At one
time or another, almost 90% the land been has been scorched to the
ground. Over many years, the fires in these hills have seared thru the
Miramar three-ring circus lives of Wiley, his friends, and family.
1928 – Las Flores fire (428 acres)
1930 – Portrero fire (20,000 acres)
1935 – Miramar fire (30,000 acres)
1938 — Pot-anga fire (30,000 acres)
1956 – Sherwood / Zuma (56,000 acres)
1970 – Wright Fire (28,000 acres)
There’s smoke on the water, fire in the sky as Wiley drives away to college with a boy’s bindlestiff of books, bags and guitar gazing at a young life gone by thru the haze of a rear-view mirror
1978 – Kanan fire (25,000 acres)
1982 – Dayton fire (43,000 acres)
1993 – Green Meadows (38,000 acres)
1993 – Pot-anga fire (36,000 acres)
The fire ignited, in November burned 96,949 acres
destroying 1,643 structures, killing three people, and
prompting the evacuation of more than 295,000 residents. ¾ of the mountain sanctuary acres were gone.
Home Town News – the third arena
The mega-fire of the devastating Woolsey blaze drew back the curtains
from the decades of Miramar growth and development. Smoke and
mirrors, smoke and mirrors. An awakening for this dyslexic atheist
insomniac who stayed awake all night wondering if there is a dog. A
memory too weird for words (but here we go anyways). Through the lifting
of the smoke, fire, haze and in the ashes of the burn scar emerged the
digital footprint of Miramar daily life. Week by week, year by year, here are
the stories of community life retold in the archives of the Miramar News,
these back pages appearing to a man-child with kaleidoscope eyes.
Naturally, we had to rearrange their pages and give them all another name.
Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear as we enter the
Miramar time machine tumbling, tumbling back thru the headlines
of the weekly home town journal. Picture yourself in a boat on a river…as
we move to the next arena of our three-ring circus.
Horsing Around in Miramar
REMUDA –
The Miramar Remuda, a two-day celebration of culture and heritage held September 27-28, 1947, took its name from the corral that vaqueros would use to select a horse for the day. The event featured this impressive display of horses (over 900 riders) on both days, in addition to a circus, a “western bathing beauty contest,” aquatic races, and an air show
Riders and Ropers Christen a Corral
Miramar Queen coronation at gymkhana horse show.
Miramar 4H Plays hosts to horses and celebrities
Nancy and Ron, popular TV and motion picture stars visit a horse show
Building Up the Ground
Brought to you by Propertese God of Real Estate
Ranch sells for 400 pesos (1848)
Beach homes once could be bought for $4500
Atomic Power Plant in Miramar proposed
Hollywood premier for local supermarket opening
Ocean causeway to divert 4-lane highway traffic
Celebritese – God of the Show-Biz Enclave
$1 blue plate special at the Miramar Inn (home of the Shrimp Boat) and
Celebrity gathering spot where photos adorn the walls
Warren Beauty Reports Theft From Parked Car
Stars Hang out at the Tiki Bar
Tiki Bar Drink Menu –
Singapore Sling, Planters Punch, Cobra’s Fang, Skull and Bones, Fog Cutter, Navy Grog and my favorite – the Suffering Bastard
Charles Boyer rents a house
Group Formed for Those who are Really Serious About Being Funny
Ingrid Bergman Dresses up as Joan of Arc
Elizabeth Taylor sports an Easter hat (with Parisian smartness)
Hit Parade Beauty Queen – Peach on the Beach is Out of Reach
Cisco Kid elected Miramar mayor
The Battle for the Headline News
Sputnik Sails over Miramar (11-8-57)
Freedom Document Foundation –
‘A Bible and the Constitution in every American home’
Put the United States Back Together Again. Elect Richard Nixon
It’s Time to Wake Up Americans
Frenzied plea of the Communist Party is dedicated to overthrow the USA
And ‘Bury Us’. The People’s World newspaper urges the defeat of Barry
Goldwater. What is going on in this country?
RF Kennedy romps in Miramar surf before night of tragedy
Reagan Rally Set / 14 Arrested for Weed Possession
Home town rally for gubernatorial candidate
Local John Birch Members Hold Meeting
Democrats with funny hats
Negro War Hero Seeks Job in Miramar
GOP Women hold a teen essay contest –Why Be a Republican?
The following principles best describe the cornerstone of Republicanism
The individual – a spiritual rational being is the most important element
of our society.
Government exists to serve the individual, not the individual to serve
the government
The individual’s economic needs are best provided by a healthy system
of free enterprise
The United States must be strong and reliant as an individual nation
In a world of unstable international relations.
Chasing the Bums Out of Town
Burglar Steals Shave Whisky and Cigarettes
Parsing the local newspaper from ’46 thru ’69 on the derelicts of the Mirarmar town. Here’s the tally – Hobo-2, Beatnik-10, Tramp-25, Hippy-20, Hippies-31, Bums-40.
Studio Group Holds ‘Hobo’ Party at Cove
Lifestyles and Culture Wars
Psychedelic Cult Colony Opens in the Miramar Mountain Canyon
Founders envision a community devoted to creative efforts and exchange of
Ideas. A combination of Summerhill and Synanon. Direct personal
Confrontation and self-actualized freedom are blended
Psychedelic Cult Colony Closes in the Canyons
The Strawberry Patch, a 40 acre tract leased by a small group of persons
identified with the hippy Movement. 65 persons living in tents and frame
structures
Beatniks Not Seen in Poland Reports Local Veterinarian
– (president of the Optimists Club)
Woman Slugged by Hippie Type
Hippy Philosophy in 5 short words
‘Some one had to plant and water that flower’
‘Oh. I thought they just grew’
Beach Cave Shelters Hippies
Drug-crazed youth goes berserk in Sherriff’s Station
Like Way Out – Is the American Beatnik an Imitation Negro?
Pink Lady in the Nudes (1966).
Pink Lady in the News (Nudes). –
Little Men from Venus Take Credit for Nude Lady Painting
Gray paint washes over Miramar Canyon painting.
Looking in on a “Happening ”; It’s Wild, Weird, But What is It”?
Not wanting to look like squares, but not having the rags to looks like hippies we wore blue jeans and sweat shirts and jazzed it up with big pendants hanging around our necks. I wanted to wear my granny glasses but no one would go if I did
Marijuana Round-Up Nets 15 Musicians, Hangers on in Pot-anga
Buffalo Springfield and Cream
Five young musicians busted
10 women detained (16-31 occupations as singer, model, student, entertainer,
Sculptress, photographer, housewife and public relations girl)
The Fierce Infinity, New Book of Poems, published by Miramar author
Without a Label (side show leaving the arena)
It’s Time for Fun When the Grunion Run – But Use Patience
Big Fish Caught in the Bay Snow blankets Miramar
Woman Falls Asleep; Hits Two Telephone Poles
School bus driver retires after 24 years and 800,00 miles
Miramar Surfers Win at Meet
Duke Hawaii Recalls First Surfing in Miramar at the Fringe estate
Problems with the wild ones – surfer tantrums and beer can throwing
Miramar Beach Association Throws a Hawaiian Luau
First class officers elected for Junior High – Wiley Timmons, Sergeant at Arms.
A carbonized rattlesnake frozen in time in the wake of Miramar fires
A Mirror Marred by the Scene
Les Fleur d’Mal (et Blues)
Mal et Blues
Mal et Blues
Le mer c’est bleu
Le mer c’est bleu
Comment allez vous?
Le Miserlou? Les Miserables?
The fugitive can find no job.
Les Fleur d’Mal ecrit par Baudelaire
Speaks poetry to clear the air.
Miramar by the sea
Look at me. Look at me.
Abra-cadabra. Presto-Chango.
To my friend Conan Doyle, your writings grow strange-o Of elves and faeries this Hocus-Pocus
Perhaps Sherlock Holmes will soon lose his focus.
That keen eye for crime’s cruel seductions,
Your hero’s sharp mind, his skillful deductions
Unravelling the clues through the dark streets of London,
As each case twists and turns you bring before us
Nefarious characters soon brought to justice.
Let us sing your praises, our glasses, let’s raise them –
A toast to Sir Arthur, your writings and canon,
To Holmes and Watson from this crystal chalice
Hear, here we cheer at the hotel Brown Palace.
Alas, your Spiritism I’ve debunked and banished
Forever our friendship completely has vanished.
very few level spots the entire distance. The overall elevation change is 1000 feet and distance is a trekking mile. Switchbacks are built in to make the steep grade more manageable. The trail eventually enters the wash where it passes through the cliffs and down to the river. Wiley the pack mule lugs in 45 lbs in of gear in a dry bag slung with backpack shoulder straps. 
fish and some to float. Three boats on the river. Looking for rainbow trout and browns, fishermen rigged their gear from fancy fly boxes. Elk-haired cadis, streamers, bright plastic moths glowing in the water. Like Taj Mahal singing to the Gunny –
The mega-fire of the devastating Woolsey blaze drew back the curtains
The Battle for the Headline News
Pink Lady in the Nudes (1966).
Miramar Surfers Win at Meet
 w/ Apologies to Johnny Cash){kind=link}
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