Nov. 2018: Kingpin of Bush Crime Family Laid to Rest in Hell
https://www.simplertimeandplacethebesteraever.com/2018/11/
We Interupt Regular Programing: Kingpin of Bush Crime Family Will Be Laid to Rest In Hell
We Interrupt Regular Programming: Kingpin of Bush Crime Family Dead
Historians, cultural anthropologists, and this supposed creative writer have been known to assert that decades do not often fit-into neat packages from January or for that matter, the beginning of the zero-year; for example, musically, the year of 1990 seemed to belong to the 1980s prior to Nirvana's Album Nevermind (1991) and Grunge or the Seattle Sound reinforced shortly thereafter by Pearl Jam, the following year; the first baby boomer president (s) Hill-Billary Clinton, being sworn-in on January of 1993, begs-to-ask:
ANYONE SEE A PATTERN HERE?
...a musical, presidential, or pop culture example for sure, but true.
Then again, as Poland had a revolution breaking free of the Warsaw Pact in January of 1990--the Soviet Union stayed largely intact for another year and a half--the Berlin Wall had just came down in November of 1989. Moreover, George HW Bush was just swinging into action to cover-up Cocaine-Contra [ill-named Iran-Contra for purposes of obfuscation] readying an invasion force for Panamanian' Strongman, Manuela Noriega, operating at the main trans-shipment point principle to the money laundering operation--resulting in the BCCI Bank Collapse--that was central to the Savings and Loan Crisis:
The Crack Epidemic ravaging the black community of the mid-to-late-eighties and the [partially to blame] resulting Rodney King Riots in LA, and even San Jose Mercury News author Gary Webb's [murder] resulting suicide--all of these things do not occur in a vacuum.
For example, the activities and murder of CIA Pilot, Barry Seals, were reported on NBC Nightly News; in addition, Peter Jennings World News Tonight reported that when Seals was shot-down over Nicaragua, "...the personal phone number of Vice President Bush was found [and provided for the media] in Seals' front shirt pocket."
Moreover, the activities at the airport in Mena, Arkansas linked directly to Roger Clinton, brother to then Governor Bill Clinton (D-AR). The smuggled [Iran-Contra] cocaine that later ended-up being distributed by street gangs was well known to most older Americans by the mid 1990s; lending itself at the time when other than the early-adopters--the Internet was still in it's infancy as far as the public was concerned. Subsequently, a cottage industry arose boosting other NWO conspiracy theories.
Back then, activists such as myself, sold VHS video tapes. As the late '90s unfolded, CD-R & DVDs of The Clinton Chronicles and related Vince Foster videos were distributed--free for the most part--to anyone accepting them [the Black Helicopter Crowd, according to our detractors] in our perspective town squares or at cultural and political events, for example; for me, a burgeoning Libertarian Activist, Pioneer Court House Square--Portland's Living Room--was ground zero for this.
...many of those escaping responsibility, never having to face a citizens' jury of their peers. We are not their peers, we are their subjects, Drake!
Source [below in italics]: Wikipedia which I never use academically, but for purposes of the ST&P Blog, it shall suffice:
Money laundering
In addition to violations of lending laws, BCCI was also accused of opening accounts or laundering money for figures such as Saddam Hussein, Manuel Noriega, Hussain Mohammad Ershad, and Samuel Doe,[11] and for criminal organizations such as the Medellin Cartel and Abu Nidal.[13] Police and intelligence experts nicknamed BCCI the "Bank of Crooks and Criminals International" for its penchant for catering to customers who dealt in arms, drugs, and hot money.[14]
William von Raab, a former U.S. Commissioner of Customs, also told the Kerry Committee that the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency held "several" accounts at BCCI. According to a 1991 article in Time magazine, the National Security Council also had accounts at BCCI, which were used for a variety of covert operations, including transfers of money and weapons for Iran-Contra.[15]
Getting back-to decade chronology, take a look at the decades of Americana and the for-instances or examples bear-this-out as decade changes are a notoriously sloppy process for the most part.
Lastly, on this whole passing of the Kingpin of the Bush Crime Family?
I will be putting together a special streaming broadcast for KSFS--my first attempt to fly-solo after three semesters of a weekly talk radio program with two different co-hosts--these last two weeks of my college career; subsequent to the lying mainstream media's lionizing love-fest of this traitor upon his death less than two weeks ago [updated 12.10,] I would like chime-in with my analysis:
Bush '41 not only had more to do with the implementation of the NWO then just about anyone, but critics need not even utter the word "allegedly" for fear of being sued for slander or libel when stating what is increasingly appearing to be the case that he was a CIA asset on the ground in Dallas on November 22, 1963.*
This, long before Bush being named the head of The Company (CIA) by one member of the Warren Commission. There were only nine members on the commission and somehow out of 435 members of the US House, 50 Governors' of the States, and 100 US Senators, the one chosen to replace resigning Vice President Spiro Agnew is ...
Hint: He happened to stumble into the presidency too, however briefly...
None-other-than one Gerald R. Ford, in August of 1974
Shortly thereafter, Nixon resigns clearing the way to Ford becoming the thirty-eighth President of the United States.
* Meticulously footnoted, Award winning NY Times Journalist, Russ Baker, published the bestseller, Family of Secrets: The Bush Dynasty and the Hidden History of the Last Fifty Years (January 2009) This followed two years after Naomi Klein's, Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism took issue with the Juniors' and Chenny INCs & others profiteering from disasters such as Hurricane Katrina and Haiti.
First, here is a link to Baker's website that has a re-posting of excerpts from the non-fiction book devoid of footnotes like my hard cover edition, unfortunately. I have chosen Part III, but if you scroll to the bottom of the page, one can read an encapsulated version of the book provided via hyperlinks:
Russ Baker Website: Who What Where
For those who really want to begin to understand or already know what has been unfolding behind the scenes since the soft coup and assassination of JFK, here is a link to the book:
Non Fiction Book: Family of Secrets
So, let us get back to the nonpartisan--before all of the madness of MK Ultra [CIA] driven school-shootings and world-coming-apart Twenty-teens--the Simpler Time and Place Blog...please, Drake!
These are historic times: the world we once knew--and the United States--is disappearing, rapidly. Please find the excellent video contained in the following story:
The Real Agenda of Caravans and Open Boarders:
Simpler Time and Place the Best Era...EVER!
Simpler Time and Place recalls what it was like to grow-up in both Northern and Southern California in the 1960s and '70s. A time when kids could hop on the bus and go to the beach--in Los Angeles! As pre-teens, we could leave early in the morning for spring skiing and still make it back to Sac in time to hop in the American River not far behind the house. Once teenagers, we could outrun the cops and not get shot--officers just left a ticket with the folks! We were young, wild, and free.
Moderately Severe Earthquakes Are Bitchen
To quote my Father, "California is just one disaster after another."
We had just come-off-of a crude oil pipeline having broken under Paul Revere Junior High School located about six-doors-down a few months earlier; a fun-thing for a ten-year-old, complete with snagging free hot dogs and soda from the Salvation Army roach coach, witnessing fire captains' landing a helicopter right on Allenford Avenue, and just a feeling of excitement amid others' chaos and despair. Really, I am not sure if the free chow was from the oil spill or the 6.3 Earthquake that followed shortly thereafter; after all, this was a half century ago.
https://www.dailynews.com/2016/02/08/sylmar-san-fernando-earthquake-45-years-ago-tuesday-64-killed/
Visualize sleeping in what had been your oldest sister's bedroom complete with a full-size mattress--feels like a California King when one was still of small stature--and just days after moving-in, all hell brakes lose, awakening to a window that sounded like it was pounded-upon, the mattress and box spring becoming what felt like becoming airborne, albeit briefly.
But first, here is the set-up:
Finally, I was out of the den that doubled as a place where my father crafted his television scripts on a manual typewriter--Ticonderoga # 2 Pencil clenched between his teeth--the carbon paper, and folks just barging-in or through the room serving as an overflow for their several-times a year Hollywood dinner parties held in the patio.
A reputation being or the culture of mid-century upper-crust-ism, this was Brentwood, CA 90049 [I cannot believe I remember that zip code!]
Not the one traversed from the Bay Area heading over Altamont Pass into the Big Valley, nor other smaller named bergs scattered across this geographically, second, largest state in the lower 48
SoCal Zip Code Map of Brentwood & Adjacent Communities
Etched in the world's media saturated collective memory, this is the Brentwood of OJ Simpson's 1994 exit off of the I-405--the cylindrical-shaped Holiday Inn built just before we left LA shadows the westerly traversing or sloping off-ramp made famous due to the low-speed chase of the white Ford Bronco continuing onto Sunset Blvd.
While one of my best friends, Charles, lived next door to LA Lakers Forward, Jerry West in Brentwood Park neighborhood [I did get to shoot some hoops with The Clutch after a sleepover,] our family lived in a three bedroom/two bath located in the Post WW II development known as the Polo Fields; made-up of what had been a chunk of Will Rodger's estate in the early half of the century, Rodger's property had stretched further west down Sunset--abutting Riviera Country Club--and ending past the Will Rodgers State Park--that included a the stretch of beach between Santa Monica and Malibu, CA that bears Rodger's name.]
Certainly, while not South Central, it was decidedly not the Brentwood Heights or Brentwood Park estates. However, Judy Garland's maid did buy a couple of Scout-O-Rama tickets from me when canvasing the Heights!
...and get this or talk about chutzpah:
My friends and I were pretty bold; apparently, playing in the gully or capturing tadpoles alongside the flank of Riviera Country Club got old at some point, and so did running across the greens to infuriate the golf-car mounted security forces!
Penetrating the clubhouse, I went on to meet Jim Backus, Co-staring as The Millionaire on Gilligan's Island and VO Artist of the animated--now banned--Mr. Magoo. This, after sneaking into the men's locker room at Riviera Country Club after ordering a chocolate shake on someone else's parent's account!
My Lord, maybe I am "The Incorrigible Drake Davis" as my BECA Colleague and former Co-host Christopher Robin refers to me!
...exploring the Men's Locker Room ?
...really Davis?
For Those to Young to Remember: Mr. Magoo
...apparently not a correct depiction of sight-impaired individuals, the animation has now been banned by most media such as The Cartoon Channel. AND, never forget Magoo's Asian helper/butler: "...five six--pick-up sticks, seven-eight--a big fat snake!" The caricature truly was insensitive; now having studied the Asian American experience here in the Western United States--the hardships of the 1880 Asian Exclusion Act and local SF ordinances targeting their culture--I am amazed at the resiliency of this very much appreciated part of the American Story.
So, What Does One Do While Living the Late Sixties Suburban SoCal Dream?
Dining ala' fresco in the patio was a thing sure as Willard and I would sunbathe while he cut-out recipes from magazines, barbecued, or held court with other Hollywood characters via a long-corded landline with his agent, Tommy Greenhow, for example [insert comment about shallow LA Types with stage names, here Davis.]
...all the while working on our tan.
In order to plan meals for the week and start cooking on Sunday, Saturday afternoons meant taping recipes to 3x5 cards in the patio, Dad annotating in the margins--improving upon them the second or third-time around. Oftentimes, unless late Fall or Winter, we ate dinners in the patio. There is very little winter to speak of in LA, right?
Our forefathers' [a friendly jab or as we say today, a "shout-out," referring to my financially much more successful, and accomplished plumbing contractor, Uncle Devin. Devin [UD for Uncle Devin] now the sole-proprietor or owner of my Grandfather's, Willard S. Davis Plumbing. Devin was like a second father to me--teaching me outdoor sports of skiing, fishing, snowmobiling and traditions my father made sure I was exposed to. Starting in 1967, I began flying-off to Sac Town several times a year for doing all of the above! Devin B. Davis was Willard S. Davis Jr's younger brother]
...To repeat and according to Willard S. Davis Jr., "Our forefathers' ate dinner in Sacramento, but in Hollywood, we are not eating...we are 'dining.'"
So, much as I found-out from the successive owners who I met on my first trip back to the old Brentwood homestead or neighborhood in 1990, the house in which you came through a front door adjacent to the garage to find yourself still outside--an olive tree off near the middle-patio with a second front door and sliding glass doors from all but one of the bedrooms was a pretty classic mid-century West Coast Ranch; except, according to the owners at the time of revisiting the old hood, a more lavish bigger version by the same famous architect was up in the highlands of the Palisades, opening to a pool where our patio was!
Obviously, I had hit a new stage of growing-up and with Shawn moved-out.
...some five to seven blocks from Santa Monica Beach and now attending the junior college of the same name, Santa Monica City College.
No more would everyone cut through the sliding door to the kitchen or the bathrooms when the evenings grew late at Willard and Adair's Hollywood cocktail/dinner parties--long after I was summonsed to bed--Mother announcing at some point around eight-thirty or nine O'clock,"The children's-hour is over!"
Let us remember and any one of my BECA Colleagues could tell you, I can be kind-of-obnoxious, so I do get it but...
That said, I do have to agree with my two older sisters. The pretentiousness of those two and the whole, "We are upper middle-class" dogma did grow old at times:
I have never found such demarcations helpful; for example, just as in the Eagles song "Desperado," I have straddled both sides of the fence--not just sexually in my younger years--but have always identified as more of a working man [sic] or saw myself decidedly blue-collar, despite my upbringing.
The adventures and travels while looking simultaneously for an on-air gig [most times settling for another apartment complex needing help at more $$$] while things sat in storage may have added an extra move at times, yet I could always find work in the trades. I do think this up-close-and-personal on the ground experience whether in the Bakken oilfields of North Dakota or on a roof in the Mile-High City, I--unlike those such as Michael Savage or Rush Limbaugh--rest my head and share my heart with the working or blue collar men and women or ...okay: "them," "they," pronoun blah-bity-blah-blah!
How about a relatable talk show host who is not an elite and uptight, has suffered through the struggles presented by the Great Recession--who like so many of us never fully recovered from it--and came-out the other-side a winner?
Can We Get Back to the Earthquake all the while coming to the realization that this is why writers' require an editor, Drake?
Anyhow, Shawna now out-of-house and a freshman at Santa Monica City College, I am resting comfortably in my new room of just a few weeks when at 6:01 AM---Earthquake!
Jolted-out of a sound sleep, immediately I am frightened as to whom must be an intruder rattling my window looking into the modest backyard equipped with the banana trees. Frozen for a few seconds by the I don't know how many more-of-the thin and single pain windows of LA did not break that morning, I realize the bed is really beginning to not just move around but seems to be catching a bit-of-air, a rolling floor deal, underfoot.
BANG!
Violently, the bedroom door slams open, my Father yelling, "Get under the door jamb." Now pretty much in a state-of shock, Mother bolts into the room to snatch me out of bed, back to the doorway or hall; let me remember...this would be my second earthquake, vague remembrances of the one in '64 (?) experiencing this at 30th and California. Next, Dad turning his attention to Dorain's room, directly across from mine, crying, she is heard screaming, "What is happening?"
Seconds seemed to be in a perpetual suspension for what could not have been longer than a minute as things finally rolled-off into the distance, diver-gently-subductionzone-plungingly into the Pacific ocean just a few miles away. Then it stopped.
Visualize the four of us tip-toeing out to the living room hand-in-hand to the relief of all, a few wall hangings down, a plate in the kitchen broken, but pretty much no damage; the TV in the living room did not seem to come-on or grab a signal, but we had mine. Dad checking gas lines and other essentials, my Mom and I sit on the edge of my bed getting nothing but snow on VHF--an old movie droning away as if nothing had happened on one channel; meanwhile, listening to news reports over a transistor radio on KHJ, KRLA, eventually finding All News 1070 KNX would have to do. Finally just a few minutes later, VHF channels flipping-through video snow began to produce audio from KCBS TV-- the flicker-rate coming slowly to life, the horizontal-hold needing a little help settling-it-down as we dialed-in our TV receiver's signal.
A few moments later, up pops the once ubiquitous Test-Pattern-Indian! Then, we see a familiar scene of the LA Farmers Market in a wide-shot--the reporter explaining as the camera focuses--zooming-in, "...it is too dangerous inside due to the aftershocks, so we are transmitting from the parking lot..." when if on que, one strong p-wave approaching, I freeze-up, looking to my Mother.
Mom: "Don't be scared, honey, this is an aftershock. They will come every so often becoming smaller and smaller--further apart--over the next few days."
A veteran of numerous Bay Area quakes growing-up in Palo Alto, attending Berkeley, and spending the 1950s and early '60s experiencing both LA & SF quakes, Mom had it going-on in this regard.
Switching channels, the once employer of my Father in the mid-nineteen-fifties, KTLA 5 now has [what had been the first station to have a news helicopter in the '50s] there chopper in the sky; it was less than two hours since the Sylmar Quake struck, the helicopter focusing on Water Bureau employees inspecting a dam above the populated areas of the San Fernando Valley. Leaking badly and causing some erosion, the dam held over the next few days as the contents was lowered; perhaps hundreds or even thousands could have been killed or at least casualties had it not held. Also on-going was the partial collapse of an area hospital which had happened and survivors were being dug-out.
Next, we saw incredible damage over where the freeways crisscrossed over our heads located in the area we passed-thru leaving the LA Basin for Sacramento, or just prior to the Grapevine. Incidentally, this same section of elevated freeway had rebuilt parts of it collapse in the stronger Northridge Quake (1994). Aftershocks became normal as the late morning unfolded, seeking-out my buddies to recall what is was like as we fanned-out to look for damage; subsequently, every crack in the pavement and tree limb that may have broke in an earlier lighting storm became our discovery as we imitated the adults portrayed in the media and those responsible for our safety.
Earthquakes are a global phenomenon. Still, many have not experienced one, and it is always a source of pride--in some juvenile mindset--to have been in this particular earthquake, explaining to newcomers the initial fear and then excitement or fun of the calamity when experienced through the eyes of a ten-year-old. Subsequently, I was on air at 1470 KXOA when an earthquake rattled through the East Bay was felt--swinging chandeliers' and all--in Old Sacramento.
Furthermore, the Loma Prieta Quake was clearly caught on-camera and also felt in the Capitol City, shortly after KCRA 3 local news, hosted by Stan Atkinson, went on-air at 5 PM. Occurring during the Battle-of-the Bay or World Series of Bay's-Ball games between the As and the Giants that Fall, I was climbing a flight of stairs, toting a 5 GL tool bucket at a complex located near Sac State. Excusing myself just after entry and seeing for myself the swinging vertical blinds once let in by the residents, I headed for all of our 4 pools knowing that just under the pool-decking lay pipes to and from the filtration and heating systems.
Damage was slight to the systems, but tan-bark littered the decking and adjacent driveways with the pools filtration systems off-line due to the water-level some three or four inches below the skimmers--thousands of gallons of water had sloshed-out at our main pool at the clubhouse!
In closing, I also got to experience what was coined, " The Spring Break Quake" that struck Portland, OR in 1993 after just moving there--for what I thought would be--for good! Lastly, the Seattle Quake in 2000 found me mid-morning at yet another complex, this time in Hillsboro, Oregon.
For a ten-year-old and his friends, it had been tons of fun riding the aftershocks as they became just over 3.0 or 2.6 for the next day or two and declaring areas damaged, discovering cracks and such until the aftershocks subsided--relegating the Sylmar Quake into the history books.
Ah, California...it has always been one disaster after another.
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on November 30, 2018 No comments:
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest
Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
Moderately Severe Earthquakes Are Bitchen
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on November 24, 2018 No comments:
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest
Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
Bohemian Heritage: A Curious Synchronicity of the Serendipity When Spelled Properly
Hi Everyone,
Increasingly, being back in The City and once again calling it home has become normative in a region where that adjective tends to defy definition as far as the rest as the nation--if not maybe the world--is concerned; hence, the Bay Area and especially SF have less in common with other regions of the US than many other parts of the world.
...at least, I am thinking or using normative as an adjective, yet if we are talking credentials to muse about such snapshots of anthropological and historical significance, count me-in!
Take for instance, my Grandparent's on the paternal-side:
Zelda Davis was a Flapper in the Roaring 1920's; having it on good authority--a couple of the last surviving relatives of my generation describing Willard Seniors' trips in the 1950s up to Plymouth and Jackson, CA, where it was an open secret that houses of prostitution still continued to be operated in Amador County through the early 1970s. Furthermore, characterizations from my then alive Aunt Bunny and Uncle Devin that Mamo [pronounced: May-Moe] and Papa would be up at Tahoe speakeasy's during the prohibition years--my Grandmother known for having a fur coat with little else on underneath seemed odd but did not mean much of anything when overhearing these recollections as a child or a preteen, for instance.
However, couple this with my Father's laments that "Your Grandfather 'cheated' on Mamo, but they seemed to always work it out," and it can be assumed they practiced more or less what could be characterized as an open relationship by successive generations. Getting older and wiser, it becomes easier to connect-the-dots; furthermore, having lived in Amador County for almost two years, the local librarian and other old-timers attested to the goings-on up there in those days, considered a blight on the mostly quite conservative resident's church-attending sensibilities.
In fact, a WWII Army Paratrooper, John Begovich, who pushed through Mussolini's Italy in 1944, came back to Amador a war hero, returning to the Sutter Creek/Jackson region of the Mother Lode.
Legend has it, Begovich was tipped-off that then Governor Edmund "Pat" Brown was sending California State Marshals, in-route heading east on HWY 16 from Sacramento in-order-to raid the notorious establishments located in Plymouth, CA and Jackson; subsequently, the posse was stymied, hence the phrase, "Atta-Boy, 'Beg.'" A former State Senator, Begovich fulfilled multiple judicial roles and positions in the region, Jackson, CA being at the crossroads of HWY 88 and the Gateway to the Sonora Pass Mother Lode, including Angels Camp, Hwy 49.
Here is a link on Mr. Begovich:
https://www.recordnet.com/article/19991104/a_news/311049990
[amended AM 16 Nov: I just got off the phone with my librarian friend, Becky, at the Amador County Library, Main Jackson Branch. She guided me to this link and attested that whole areas of the County at the time were riddled with gambling houses and bordellos.]
http://blog.clairitage.com/2018/01/07/the-jackson-bordellos/
Accordingly, Begovich is perhaps the most revered historic or public figure in Amador County History from what I could tell. For instance, the stretch of HWY 49 that runs through the City Limits of Jackson is named after the once super-duper--invading Italy--paratrooper. I spent quite a bit of my free time while both in Amador and Tuolumne County--throw-in a pinch of Calevaras County, too, since you are going through there, Drake--at least scratching-the-surface of the history and culture of the Mother Lode over my almost four years in the region.
One last aside: my Forest-Gump-style Drake Davis-ism or Drakey-DAR has me thinking that an encampment during the Gold Rush called Chilean Gulch [located in Calaveras Co. a couple miles east of the Amador County line on HWY 49] could be where my Great-Great Paternal Grandmother and her husband (?) may have settled after disembarking a ship from Chile in 1851, San Francisco.
https://www.geni.com/people/Pat-Brown-Governor/6000000017714544277
Now back to the story...so, where were we?
...oh yeah, infidelity and prostitution!
So, once again it seems that nothing is new under the Sun.
I'd even go so far to say, the era that Simpler Time and Place chronicles, the Do Your Own Thing mid-to-late 1960s through 1980, are really just part of a larger cycle of cultural and societal shifts, the pendulum swinging from one extreme or another. Of equal significance, the period just prior to this is recalled to have been a white-bread, KRAFT fake cheese, and emergence of TV dinners era that President Reagan was stuck-in. Social anthropologists decry the 1950s as being an anathema of squareness, oppressed women, and minorities not withstanding.
However, the launch of Playboy magazine (1953), and even before the The Kinsey Report, Sexual Behavior in the Human Male (1948) foreshadowed what was to come. Just as my Grandparent's and the stories of Stateline, NV speakeasy's and houses-of-ill repute suggest, folks just took their sexual proclivities and other activities underground.
Subsequently, I have a rather curious story about, my Father and I, attending the Bohemian Club right here in mid-nineteen-sixties San Francisco. I would like to share with you today; he was considering or they were considering letting him join, yet Mom was unsure of why it did not come to pass, our family moving back [for my older sisters anyway] to Hollywood upon the Summer of 1965. Less than a year away, and this too may have been a consideration.
The strange goings-on at Bohemian Grove are well documented, but I do not think anything weird or perverse was a-foot. That said, my visit to the gym and steam bath at San Francisco's Bohemian Club always struck me as rather odd, nevertheless--if for nothing else--being paraded around wearing a towel or sitting with strangers completely naked in the steam bath at the age-of-four; a ritualistic attempt of male bonding at worst, in true Forest Gump-ian Drake Davis Fashion, the whole episode came-up in discussion with my Mother in 2009 a couple of years after Willard's passing, a trip to visit with her and clean her bathtub in Roseville, CA.
On this occasion, I had purchased a book by author Robert Anton Wilson, Everything is Under Control: Conspiracies, Cults, and Cover-ups (1998) for the fifteen hour trip through the Cascades and Siskiyou Mountains--Amtrak depositing riders after a final few hours southward, in the Sac-of-Pimentoes.
Then, a shuttle bus delivers me to the old Roseville railyard; I had three vehicles, but with Mom's little 2001 Ford Escort at hand why drive the '71 GS or a work van down from Oregon.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Anton_Wilson
(...cue Twilight Zone music, people.)
Once there, low-and-behold, she pulls out an ashtray engraved with the phrase, "Spider-webs we weave in-order to deceive," Bohemian Club, SF, California and says, "If you want to smoke I have this ashtray for you!"
Whoa, my Mother kept everything, if small enough and heirloom worthy, yet I was truly floored!
Anyhow, it was almost as weird as when in Hospice I asked that...if she could, "...send me a signal from the other-side...maybe since we always refer to ourselves as the bird family, coming back as a bird, for instance." OMG: I had the most bizarre experiences in the following months involving birds, tapering-off as the months went by after laying her to rest. It started immediately upon my return to Oregon--we will save them for another day.
...readers sighing-in-relief that ADHD-Boy is ready to wrap-up this weeks installment!
In closing, I wanted to share two old pictures of my Dad being interviewed on KGO 810 AM by none other than Owen Spann at where?
...The Bohemian Club in San Francisco!
I am relatively sure the aforementioned visit to the Bohemian Club did not occur at the time-of or even the year of the KGO interview which I still have on a 7 and a 1/4" reel-to-reel tape. At the time he was working for the Standard School Broadcast as a writer and I believe associate producer. Whereas, this more likely took place circa 1962--from what I can recollect from archiving my Father's career, beginning as a preteen, a duty which continues with several visits to his archive at the California Library in Sacramento now under my belt.
Currently, I am in possession of and am looking into digitizing one of the :30s TV ads he produced for Ronald Reagan's reelection as Governor (1970). It gets better:
This one, features my teen-aged sister, Dorain, running down Santa Monica Beach, hand-in-hand with her boyfriend from Palisades High School.
Here are the two known pictures from that day at the Bohemian Club with a bit of context:
It was a men members only club. Although parts of the club were, obviously, open to women for certain functions, the boudoir oil-paintings just came with the territory as did the cigarettes burning in the ashtrays [what were those things called that we--as kids--dumped the full ashtrays into...butt-waiters?] three--not--two martini lunches, aside; after all, this was San Francisco!
I always admired my Father's achievements. At times having shrines as my Mother called them in my teenage bedroom in our Carmichael, CA home by the American River. His "Emmy" awards [technically, the Emmy's had not been a thing until 1962,] yet in 1954, Willard S. Davis Jr., did win the regional TV predecessor, The National Academy of Television Arts award for Directing and again in 1955 [or was it '56?] for the live show, Success Story which aired weekly on KGO 7 Television.
Occasionally, now that I am in my late '50s, I do wax philosophically in this blog; yet, I try to not get to side-tracked by the day's political developments or current events, hoping to cater to a demographic that is looking for some nostalgic escapism or reminiscing of a California long-ago having had sailed away into the sunset.
So, oftentimes, we talk of or compare the era of Simpler Time and Place to the rapid change and transformation of Humankind having to cope with all-of-these mass shootings, natural disasters, not so natural disasters--Trumpisms'-- or everything that is unfolding in these times; mostly, I try to remain open-minded, knowing I am far from having all of the answers--always acknowledging that my days' are numbered; accordingly, self-determination is the ultimate liberty and successive generations deciding for themselves how they wish to live, whom they chose to love, and constructing their world order--hopefully rebuilding the environmental havoc wreaked by successive generations--increasingly, seems to be what is at play here.
The future belongs to my fellow students, younger friends and relatives, or much younger residents of this still great state, California.Yet a word of caution this week of Veteran's Day:
Once our Bill of Rights is gone and the apparatus that forms the three branches of government and the separation of powers, etc are cast-aside...
You can not put the toothpaste back in the tube.
...then again, it takes courage to change people's hearts.
PS. I have to accredit that last phrase to having just heard it on a YouTube video; DD don't do plagiarism.
Posted by Drake McDonald Davis on November 07, 2018 No comments:
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest
Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)
About Me
Drake Davis is a 6th Generation [Paternal/5th Maternal] Californian who graduated from San Francisco State University in December of 2018. Currently, Davis is about to launch a career in voice-over having over 5.5 years on-air over two decades in Sacramento & Portland, OR; better yet, Davis was there with four additional years in live performance at the birth of Disco and height of the Roller Disco Era in Sac. Poised to go far and in possession of the coveted SFSU Broadcast and Electronic Communication Arts [BECA] Degree, Davis can be be harnessed to make money for your media outfit.
Blog Archive
September 2020 (1)
January 2019 (1)
December 2018 (4)
November 2018 (3)
October 2018 (5)
September 2018 (4)
August 2018 (1)
June 2018 (1)
April 2018 (2)
Search This Blog
Launching a New Blog: criticalthinkingandreasoning.com
Hello Everyone, I had considered Simpler Time and Place a completed project; accordingly, I still have had people coming to the site and m...
Comments
Post a Comment