Our President Retakes Dam



Another mission accomplished! It’s great to be an American who knows who their real enemies are, and sees our real leaders doing something to defeat them.


Kurdish peshmerga fighters backed by US warplanes pressed a counter-offensive against jihadists on Monday after retaking Iraq’s largest dam alongside Iraqi government forces, as the US and Britain stepped up their military involvement.

The recapture of Mosul dam marks the biggest prize yet clawed back from Islamic State (Isis) jihadists since they launched a major offensive in northern Iraq in June, sweeping Iraqi security forces aside.

US aircraft are carrying out strikes in support of the forces battling Isis militants, who have declared a caliphate straddling vast areas of Iraq and Syria.

The jihadists also came under attack in their Syrian stronghold of Raqaa by Syria’s air force for a second straight day on Monday.

“The planes are striking and the peshmerga are advancing,” a Kurdish fighter told Agence France-Presse on Monday near the shores of the Mosul dam.

AFP journalists heard jets flying overhead and saw smoke rising from the site of a strike that a peshmerga member said targeted one of the entrances to the dam.

Fighting on Monday also broke out in an area south of the dam while engineering teams worked to clear booby traps and bombs left by jihadists, said Kawa Khatari, an official from Iraq’s main Kurdish party.

Iraqi security spokesman Lieutenant General Qassem Atta confirmed on Monday that the Mosul dam was entirely liberated in a joint operation by Iraqi “anti-terrorism forces and peshmerga forces with aerial support”.

Atta added on state television that while the dam had been retaken, fighting was continuing in adjoining facilities.

The Mosul dam breakthrough came after US warplanes and drones at the weekend carried out their heaviest bombing yet against Isis in the north since they began launching air strikes on 8 August.

The US Central Command reported that the military had carried out 14 air strikes on Sunday near the dam located on the Tigris river, which provides electricity and irrigation water for farming to much of the region.

Sunday’s strikes destroyed 10 Isis armed vehicles, seven Isis Humvees, two armoured personnel carriers and one Isis checkpoint.

The US president, Barack Obama, told Congress that the “limited” air strikes he has authorised on Iraq to support the fight for the dam protected US interests there.

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Oswald Shoots Himself

Royal Rosamond Press:

Oswald wanted to be a novelist. Lane says he and Pynchon were on the same bus to Mexico. “To divide Tom the man from Pynchon the idea for biographical purposes, however, is to risk the folly in which Lane indulges in Journey into the Mind of [P.], particularly when he speculates that Pynchon was on the bus Lee Harvey Oswald took from Houston, Texas, to Mexico City on September 26, 1963,[23] about a month after Pynchon served as best man at Richard Fariña and Mimi Baez’s wedding on August 21, 1963. Lane never offers an explanation for why Pynchon would travel from California to Texas to return to Mexico rather than take a bus from Pacific Grove, to which he had traveled from Mexico City in August.[24] Lane admits that he is offering nothing more than “ridiculous rumor,” a description he quickly recasts as “ridiculous speculation,” apparently to indicate that the story is his own, but he also conjectures that Pynchon’s “secret,” his reason for avoiding the press, involves the conversation he had with Oswald. “This is the kind of fun people like me can have,” Lane then says. But the speculation isn’t simply ridiculous; it ignores the record, even as it existed at the time of the film’s making. Pynchon had already begun his famed avoidance of the media before Oswald went to Mexico, as George Plimpton, a literary journalist, and Jules Siegel, a former friend, point out in the film just after Lane’s speculation. There is no reasonable way to place Pynchon on a bus with Oswald, despite Lane’s insistence that connections can be forged even if the words we have don’t imply them, or to attribute Pynchon’s desire for privacy to a meeting between him and Kennedy’s assassin. Indeed, it has more recently been revealed that Pynchon headed further north after Fariña’s wedding, meeting up with friends from Cornell, Mary Ann Tharaldsen and David Seidler, in Berkeley, where he remained until “shortly after John F. Kennedy was assassinated.”[25] Pynchon might observe of Lane’s speculation: “Opera librettos, movies and television drama are allowed to get away with all kinds of errors in detail. Too much time in front of the Tube and a writer [or biographical researcher, it turns out] can get to believing the same thing. . . . The lesson here, obvious but now and then overlooked, is just to corroborate one’s data.”[26]

Originally posted on rosamondpress:


lee23Lee Oswald shot himself in the arm with a .22 while in the Marines where he was classified a Sharpshooter. Was Lee trying to get out of the Marines? This would explain why he used a .22 rather than an serive issued pistol, because, it would do a lot of damage.

Lee was reprimanded for taking a wild shot with his rifle, but, this too failed to get him out of the service. What was Lee’s motive? I think he wanted to be a Spy. Lee appears to own many covert agendas. Why didn’t he take a shot at President Eisenhower – if he jut wanted to make a name for himself as a crazed assassin. John Birch said Ike was “pink” and soft on commies – because he did not let McArthur nuke the North Koreans. Walker served in Korea, and probably wished Eisenhower was dead, and, McArthur was…

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Early California Writers

Originally posted on rosamondpress:

According to my aunt Lillian, her father, Royal Rosamond, taught Earle Stanley Gardener the rudiments of writing. In a taped interview Lillian told me she would fall asleep in the Rosamond home in Ventura to the sound of Roy and Earl pecking away on the Royal typewriter. Gardener is the creator of Perry Mason, an old television series about an attorney who never fails to win a case.

According to my mother, Rosemary, Royal used to sail out to the Channel Islands with his friend, Dashiell Hammett, and camp overnight. I found old photographs of my grandmother and Roy camping on one of these islands, and will post them later.

Above is a photograph of Henry Meade Bland, the Poet Laureate of Santa Clara County, with Joaquin Miller ‘The Poet of the Sierras’. Miller would come down from his poet and artist’s retreat called ‘The Heights’ and carry my father on…

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Another Scientific Solution







At the Vancouver Museum there were rock posters on the wall. I looked for one with the Loading Zone. The poster with the Zone playing with the Who, in particular because I was in Canada. Peter Townsend was a follower of Meher Baba, as was I since 1967. My friend James Taylor was a leading follower of Baba, and found the Victorian in Oakland where we lived with the Zone. James and his childhood friends, were members of Brotherhood of Eternal Love who manufactured and distributed LSD all over the world. I was there when Tim loaded up a batch and headed to the airport to take a jet to London. Tim and Peter were chased thru the Berkeley Hills by rednecks. I was introduced to Tim Scully by my patron, Tim’s brother. Nancy dated Owsley and went on a double date with Christine and Nick Sands, another LSD manufacturer.

In 1966, Tim hooked me up to his bio-feedback machine while I was on LSD. I became good friends of Bob who has a I.Q. of 200. Bob and Scully met at the Livermore Lab when they were sixteen. They were CIA material.

We Hippies invented a new way of BEING with our fellow human beings that changed the world. I am on Pynchon’s case about being a Loner, and at the same time our literary spokesperson. We Hippies rejected the old ideas of success. We undermined the shame-based society that was trapped in the duality of good vs.evil.

Cold War Paranoia, is back, along with the call for a new Crusade. The evangelicals worship 911, it a sign unto them the End Time is coming, along with the ‘Killer Jesus’, who will murder millions of non-believers. Religious addicts are the most dangerous people on earth.

Jon Presco

“I got in touch with Tim Scully in 2003. Back then, I was making research on The Brotherhood of Eternal Love, and my main reason for getting in touch with Scully was to learn more of his days with the organization. We corresponded by e-mail. The the text below is an edited version of these messages.

Martin A. Lee and Bruce Shlain’s Acid Dreams tells us their story of The Brotherhood, and also frequently mention you. The book gives the impression that you once were a very devoted man, with a firm belief in the inherent spiritual qualities of acid.
— I can’t speak for everyone. Although when we took LSD we felt that we all understood each other and agreed on some deep level, I now think that feeling was sometimes an illusion.

— When I took LSD, the experience was so magical that I wanted to share it with everyone and make it available to everyone who wanted it. I believed that this would make the world a better place, at a time when it was very troubled, e.g. the war in Vietnam . I believed that others would have experiences similar to those I had, if they tried LSD, and I believed that such an experience would make people gentler, more caring, more conscious and at one with the universe. I thought of LSD as an entheogen , though that term was not in use at the time. I also believed that this is what the Brotherhood [of Eternal Love] members believed.

— Now, in hindsight, it appears that LSD doesn’t carry a specific message with it. I like the model presented in Acid Dreams, that LSD is an amplifier. Given the proper set and setting it can be a powerful entheogen. But with different set and setting it can be an interrogation aid for the CIA or a party drug or any number of other things. So I think a good cultural context is needed for entheogens to function, such as in Huxley’s Island or as in primitive cultures.

— I have also learned that although many idealists were drawn to make and distribute LSD, that this scene was and is also a magnet for con artists. I think Ron Stark probably was a world class example. I’m currently skeptical of the theory that he was a CIA agent, by the way.

— I only had close contacts with a few brothers during the time I was making acid, for security reasons. And the years I was making acid were from 1966-1970, with only the period from late 1968-mid 1970 overlapping with the Brotherhood. My main contacts were with John Griggs, Mike Randell and Ed May. I believe they were all sincere in sharing my beliefs. Of the three, only Mike Randell is still alive now. Since then, I have seen the testimony of several former brothers who became informers. I have read of the alleged involvement of some Brothers in dealing hard drugs. I don’t have any personal knowledge of the accuracy of this last allegation. I was always of the opinion that forcing entheogens into the same channels as other drugs would corrupt some people, and that certainly happened to some people. It is too bad we weren’t able to give them away.

— I have met many people who took LSD. The vast majority believe they benefited from the experience. A few obviously did not and I feel bad about them. I think a higher percentage of the people who made or sold LSD were harmed by doing so.

— With regard to the accuracy of Tendler and May’s book [The Brotherhood of Eternal Love], in many areas I am impressed with the research they did. I hope the Tendler and May book was inaccurate in saying that in later years the Brothers lost their idealism. Since I wasn’t in touch with them, I don’t know.

You say that you only were in close contact with three of the Brothers. I understand your position as a major acid chemist was unique and that the security you mentioned was of great importance, but did you see yourself as a “Brother” or just somebody helping them doing a righteous thing?
— Many people shared the goal of turning on the world in the ’60s. There wasn’t nearly as formal an organization as the government seemed to believe. Nick [Sand] and I cooperated in obtaining raw materials, for example, but were in many ways working completely independently. Nick, Bear and I all got some help from Billy Hitchcock, but again, this was a very loose arrangement and not at all the kind of organization that most folks imagine. Perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it as a community of common interests or a network.

— I don’t have a clear sense of how formal the Brotherhood was, but I suspect that it also was pretty informal, with various “members” doing their own thing but sharing resources. They made me an honorary member, giving me a necklace with a symbol which the members would recognize. But it was an extremely loose association.

The psychedelic counterculture of today is now an underground phenomena and probably very different from what it was in the Sixties. It is more likely that people pick up a book by Terence McKenna rather than reading Timothy Leary’s manual based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead. McKenna made a big impact in the 1990s, but instead of LSD opting for the use of Psilocybin mushrooms and also DMT, saying LSD simply isn’t very spiritual in nature. McKenna’s view on acid as less spiritual seems to have become somewhat established.

Could this shift in attitude possibly have anything to do with the degradation in the quality of acid? There are recent reports showing that the LSD of today is much weaker and also of inferior quality, while your Orange Sunshine was said to be even purer than that of the Sandoz laboratories.
— Yes, Bear and I both made every effort to make the purest possible LSD. We aimed to get 3600 doses per gram of pure crystalline LSD. We always dispersed it on tribasic calcium phosphate which was thereafter diluted with lactose. In the earliest period, Bear put the resulting mixture in #5 geletin capsules. Later we switched to tablets, either tablet triturates or compression molded, depending on the equipment we had available. The tribasic calcium phosphate had a strong affinity for the LSD and kept it evenly distributed throughout the tablet or capsule. This protected the labile LSD from decomposition due to exposure to UV light, extreme Ph, etc. Tablets were harder to counterfit or adulterate.

— There was one small batch of acid which Bear combined with 1mg of STP as an experiment. He concluded that STP was a bad idea and reverted to pure LSD.

— I gather from reading on the web that modern acid is usually distributed on blotters, a cheap but very bad distribution method since it leaves the acid vulnerable to rapid decomposition, and that a typical dose is not 50 micrograms. I don’t have much information yet on the purity of present-day street acid, though I’m looking for published reports.

— I’d expect several factors to influence the kind of trips people have. Certainly the size of dose makes a big difference. After that I would rank set and setting with impurities coming in last, assuming they are not unusually toxic. That doesn’t mean I think purity is unimportant. I just suspect that the other factors may be substantially more of an influence in this case. One blessing of the small doses popular now is that extreme bad trips are more rare.

Do you think acid will be around in the future and if so, will this drug be relevant in any spiritual or scientific way rather than just being the party drug it has become?
— I have met many people who are still using LSD for spiritual purposes. I doubt that will stop. If the current drug war ever abates, I think it is likely that scientific and medical research would resume. I also think that more frivolous uses of LSD will also continue.

You still claim that it would have been better to give the acid away rather than selling it. Was this way of thinking shared by others in the community? Viewing LSD as a religious sacrament, like the early Brothers from Anaheim did, also makes the idea of selling it absurd. In what way did people justify charging money for it?
— Without a wealthy patron to finance the production and distribution, selling it was the most straightforward way of financing the costs, which were very substantial. The raw materials were very hard to buy and involved bribes, smuggling, etc. There were ever increasing legal expenses in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. Setting up and operating a good clandestine lab is not cheap either. Tabletting is also expensive. The last tablet machine I was involved with, in 1970, cost $15,000. I read that one costing $100,000 was confiscated in one of Nick’s labs. A substantial fraction, perhaps 1/3, of the acid I made was given away.

— Nevertheless, it appears to me that some people were corrupted by the money that flowed through the pipeline. And certainly having LSD in the same milieu as cocaine and heroin, particularly when government propoganda made every effort to erase the distinctions between drugs, led all too many people into deep trouble with hard drugs.

— During the years when I was making LSD, I was very concerned with the likelihood that the authorities would make raw materials completely impossible to obtain at some point. I felt that we were in a race with time to garner enough raw material to make enough acid to turn on the world before it became impossible. I think others shared this view and labs scaled up as rapidly as raw materials and resources permitted.

— At the time, we fantasized about various free distribution methods. One unrealized fantasy was to buy one of those postcard advertising inserts for a mass-market magazine such as LIFE and, after publication, tell everyone that there was a dose of LSD hidden on each postcard. But we never had the wherewithall to make that happen.

Out of curiosity, I’d also like to know how long you stayed on The Merry Pranksters’ Bus ? According to Acid Dreams you helped them install the sound equipment, is this right?
— I designed and built sound equipment for the Dead, lived with them and worked as a roadie for about the first 6 or 7 months of 1966. Then when the Point Richmond lab started up, the Dead wanted Bear and I to move out, so we did.

Nicholas Sand is one of the most prolific and famous underground chemists in history. Along with Tim Scully, Nick Sand was responsible for producing over 3 million hits of Orange Sunshine, a brand of LSD that was renowned for its quality and purity in the Sixties. He was the first underground chemist to synthesize DMT rather than extracting it from natural sources, and the first person to discover that the DMT freebase could be smoked. His two essays on DMT are indispensable for DMT novices and veterans alike.


Robert “Tim” Scully (born August 27, 1944) is best known in the psychedelic underground for his work in the production of LSD from 1966 to 1969, for which he was indicted in 1973 and convicted in 1974.[1] His best known product, dubbed “Orange Sunshine”, was considered the standard for quality LSD in 1969.[2]

1 Early Life
2 LSD Production
3 Investigation, Arrest, and Trial
4 Later Life
5 References
6 External links
Early Life[edit]
Scully grew up in Pleasant Hill, which was across the Bay from San Francisco. In eighth grade he won honorable mention in the 1958 Bay Area Science Fair for designing and building a small computer. During high school he spent summers working at the Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory on physics problems. In his junior year of high school, Scully completed a small linear accelerator in the school science lab (he was trying to make gold atoms from mercury) which was pictured in a 1961 edition of the Oakland Tribune. Scully skipped his senior year of high school and went directly to U.C. Berkeley majoring in mathematical physics. After two years at Berkeley, Scully took a leave of absence in 1964 because his services as an electronic design consultant were in high demand. Tim Scully first took LSD on April 15, 1965.
LSD Production[edit]
Scully knew the government would move quickly to suppress LSD distribution, and he wanted to obtain as much of the main precursor chemical, lysergic acid, as possible. Scully soon learned that Owsley Stanley possessed a large amount (440 grams) of lysergic acid monohydrate. Owsley and Scully finally met a few weeks before the Trips Festival in the fall of 1965. The 30-year-old Owsley took the 21 year old Scully as his apprentice[3] and they pursued their mutual interest in electronics and psychedelic synthesis.
Owsley took Scully to the Watts Acid Test on February 12, 1966, and they built electronic equipment for the Grateful Dead until late spring 1966. In July 1966 Owsley rented a house in Point Richmond, California and Owsley and Melissa Cargill (Owsley’s girlfriend who was a skilled chemist) set up a lab in the basement. Tim Scully worked there as Owsley’s apprentice. Owsley had developed a method of LSD synthesis which left the LSD 99.9% pure. The Point Richmond lab turned out over 300,000 tablets (270 micrograms each) of LSD they dubbed “White Lightning”. LSD became illegal in California on October 6, 1966, and Scully wanted to set up a new lab in Denver, Colorado.
Scully set up the new lab in the basement of a house across the street from the Denver zoo in early 1967. Owsley and Scully made the LSD in the Denver lab. Later Owsley started to tablet the product in Orinda, California but was arrested before he completed that work. Owsley and Scully also produced a new psychedelic in Denver which they called STP. STP was initially distributed at the summer solstice festival in 1967: 5,000 tablets (20 milligrams each) which quickly acquired a bad reputation. Owsley and Scully made trial batches of 10 mg tablets and then STP mixed with LSD in a few hundred yellow tablets but soon ceased production of STP. Owsley and Scully produced about 196 grams of LSD in 1967, but 96 grams of this was confiscated by the authorities; Scully moved the lab to a different house in Denver after Owsley was arrested on Christmas Eve 1967.

Nick Sand (born May 10, 1941)[1] is a cult figure in the psychedelic community for his work as a clandestine chemist from 1966-1996 for the Brotherhood of Eternal Love.[2][3] Sand was also Chief Alchemist for the League for Spiritual Discovery at the Millbrook estate in New York and was credited as the “first underground chemist on record to have synthesized DMT”.[4]

Nick Sand (born May 10, 1941)[1] is a cult figure in the psychedelic community for his work as a clandestine chemist from 1966-1996 for the Brotherhood of Eternal Love.[2][3] Sand was also Chief Alchemist for the League for Spiritual Discovery at the Millbrook estate in New York and was credited as the “first underground chemist on record to have synthesized DMT”.[4]

1 Background
2 Prosecution
2.1 Resurfacing
3 See also
4 References
5 External links
Sand grew up in Brooklyn, New York and by his late teens he was already aware of the LSD scene developing around Greenwich Village. While attending Brooklyn College, Sand became interested in the teachings of Gurdjieff, the study of different cultures, and various Eastern philosophers.[5]
In 1961, he had his first mescaline experience.[1]
Graduating in 1966 with a degree in Anthropology and Sociology, Sand followed Leary and Alpert to Millbrook and became a guide to the psychedelic realm for many of the people who came to Millbrook. During this time Sand also began extracting DMT in his bathtub.[5]
Sand later started a perfume company as a front for the production of Mescaline and DMT.[6] During this time Sand began to attract the attention of the police due to his lengthy visits to Milbrook and chose to move his lab to San Francisco after Owsley visited Milbrook in April 1967.[citation needed] Sand’s San Francisco Lab was operational by July 1967. Sand wanted to make LSD but was lacking the necessary precursors. Owsley had given him a formula for STP and would tablet Sand’s product from his own lab in Orinda.
In 1968 Sand was introduced to fellow chemist Tim Scully, who had been training under Owsley Stanley until Stanley’s legal troubles in 1967.[7]
In December 1968 Sand purchased a farmhouse in Windsor, California, at that time a small town in rural Sonoma County. There he and Scully set up a large LSD lab. Here they produced over 3.6 million tablets of LSD that was distributed under the name “orange sunshine”.[2]

When Nicholas Sand was about 16 his dad was working as a chemist for the government developing nuclear weapons and how he had this amazing lab in his basement where Sand could experiment. He and his friends would sit around and experiment  and eventually developed LSD that they began shooting up. At the time there were about 15-25 people in the US that were doing this. He told me that one day Aldous Huxley came to lecture at his college and that there were only about 10 kids that showed up to listen. After the lecture Sand asked Huxley to come to his house to see what him and his friends have been working on. While Huxley was reluctant at first he finally agreed to check it out and couldn’t believe was he was seeing when he got there . Only a handful of people in the world were experimenting with this at the time. Sand was onto something incredible and they all tested out his new LSD concoction. He also told me that while  Huxley was there Sands mom came downstairs with sandwiches for everyone while they were all “Turning On”

The next big news we are going to read, is Michael was shot on the back. The press and the people will have real hard questions for the chief who will point to the cigar theft. Then, the shit will hit the fan.


Later in the novel we return to Dr. Hilarius, this time hysterically shooting off a vintage hunk o’ Nazi weaponry:
“He’s gone crazy. I tried to call the police, but he took a chair and smashed the switchboard with it.”
“Dr Hilarius?”
“He thinks someone’s after him.” Tear streaks had meandered down over the nurse’s cheekbones. “He’s locked himself in the office with that rifle.” A Gewehr 43, from the war, Oedipa recalled, that he kept as a souvenir.
“He shot at me. Do you think anybody will report it?”
“Well he’s shot at half a dozen people,” replied Nurse Blamm, leading Oedipa down a corridor to her office. “Somebody better report it.”
As Charles Hollander points out in Pynchon, JFK and the CIA: Magic Eye Views of The Crying of Lot 49, Pynchon doesn’t always speak directly:
. . .Chapter by chapter, step by step, Pynchon leads us to the assassination of President Kennedy, without ever mentioning the then–recent event directly. . .
If my response to The Crying of Lot 49 differs from Mr. Hollander’s, it is in emphasis. My “Magic Eye” reading doesn’t locate JFK nearly as much as the CIA, and when it comes down to CIA related times, places and names, Thomas Pynchon can get downright coy. But Dr. Hilarius’ involvement in “die Brucke” points to both of CIA’s little projects Operation Paperclip and MK-ULTRA:



Meanwhile back at Gordita Beach, Doc Sportell has some interesting interactions with The Brotherhood of Eternal Love, a group from Laguna Beach who manufactured and sold an amazing quantity of LSD before diversifying and ending up more like street hoods than the visionaries they started out as with their leader, Timothy Leary. A Crucial text is Nick Schou’s article “LORDS OF ACID: How the Brotherhood of Eternal Love Became OCs Hippie Mafia” from the July 7 2005 issue of the OC Weekly.


Originally a chemical weapons manufacturing facility for World War II, the arsenal became the focal point of the Army’s rocket and space projects, including development of the first U.S. ballistic missiles and space launch vehicles in the 1950s.

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Pynchon, Oswald, Aerospace Cases



Rosemary 1943 Herman & Dog 1

Rosemary 1955 at Company Party 2

Rosemary 1955 at Company Party 4

Rosemary 1959 as Can Can Girl

Rosemary 1959 as Flapper

Sometimes information comes to me in dreams. I get huge downloads of information while I sleep. Last night, I was on the Papal and Pynchon Trail at the same time. (Why me?) I was led to a woman’s name. I told Pynchon we have to stop playing games because the Pope has called for a Holy Crusade against ISIS, and I need to blog on this. Tom gave me her name, that I could not quite make out. I tried to focus in and get it. This caused me to wake up…..with this conscious thought;

“Lee Harvard Oswald worked for Boeing, for NASA. So did Mary Ann, and….

“In the early 1960s, Phyllis was a Spanish teacher in Seattle, married to Fred Gebauer, a mechanical engineer doing work at Boeing he couldn’t discuss. At a party celebrating a mutual friend’s new piano, the two met Pynchon, a technical writer working for another part of Boeing.”

Then it hit me, how similar Thomas Pynchon is to Lee Harvey Oswald. They have been on a parelel path living a double life. These INFAMOUS LONERS are famous for their SECRETS, their covert activity. Some of the best detective minds have failed to discover WHO Lee was. Consider all the cult-like literary guesses about these two men, that if stacked up, would reach to the ceiling!

Has Tom made the Oswald connection? I had read about the Reily Coffee Company a year ago when I blogged extensively about the Kennedy assassination that some blame on the failed Bay of Pigs CIA operation. I googled ‘Oswald’ and ‘Aerospace’ and found this article and this name

“I then noticed that Alfred Claude, who hired Oswald for Reily, had also gone to work for the Chrysler Aerospace Division.”

Your CIA boss would be a real pig for information. Was Tom working on an assignment for the CIA? Did Mary Ann Thararldsen get him a job working for the CIA at Boeing? What were these eggheads doing in Mexico? What was Oswald doing in Mexico? Tom had to know folks around him could not talk about what they did for money and country. The Mailman has been corrupted. No one gets close the truth.

As I came fully awake, I thought about my mother’s job at Rucker, a company that made hydrolics for the Space Industry in Emeryville California. Rosemary would tell her children she helps some of the brightest minds in the country get their act together. They were eggheads. CIA material.

“Your mother helps put men in space.”

Once a year Rosemary would throw an office party. She was in charge of entertainment. There was a Jazz band that practiced at our home. My mother had these Space Men dress like Can-Can Girls. My father hated all the attention she was getting. Then she met Big Bones Remmer in the Key Club, a legal gambling joint in Emeryville.

Rosemary Rosamond, the ex-mother-in-law of Mary Ann Tharaldsen, scored the second highest score in the history of WAVES (Navy) when they gave her a IQ test. She was put to work spying on the Russians in Seattle where they intercepted radio chatter and deciphered it.

My brother worked on the Space Shuttles at Hughes Aircraft. He told me he had same TOP SECURITY clearance as the President. He designed War Toys. Mark’s wife was Sue Lyon’s good friend. My brother would drive Sue to Santa Monica College. Sue starred in the movie ‘Lolita’.

My reclusive brother disappeared himself. In 1987 he showed me a video of his top secret work. They were making tanks impervious to gas warfare. He said;

“We are like boys with new toys. We will play with them one day. This is why I want you to find some land in Oregon and build our family a bunker.”

In Boris Kachka’s article on Pynchon, he speaks of the dislusionment Tom suffered after being admitted into a inner circle at Boeing. He speaks of a “death-wish” he acquired there. Mary Ann was a part of that circle. Consider the “death-wish” in her apocalyptic paintings. Lee Harvey Oswald seems to have the same world-view, he not able to find himself after being introduced to the ‘World of Spooks’. No one is who they say they are! This is key!

Pynchon wrote the Minuteman Field Service News when he worked at Boeing that made the Minuteman ICBM missile. Did he want to own more math so he could actually build a missle, and get paid more money? He carried around fireworks and rockets that he would set-off. How many bright college kid’s brain and identities were buried in those secret silos hidden the cornfields of Kansas? During the Cuban Missle Crisis Rosemary told her kids;

“We were considering invading Russia at the end of the war.”

Rosemary also announced;

“I know who killed Kennedy.”
“Who?” her four children asked.
“I can’t tell you.”

There was enough paranoia to go round. Every family in America owned some. Mark worked at the Redstone Arsenal repairing ICBMs. He took the photo of my new bride and I at his home. My brother had a plan, that after Armageddon we would merge from the family bunker, kill all surviving males, rape all the women, and get each other’s offspring – with child! We would repopulate the earth! ZARDOZ!


Mary Ann is/was the ‘All American Girl’ who bragged she descended from Vikings who discovered America. She was Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Was she a CIA Recruiter who led eggheads down the yellow-brick road, she answering her country’s calling to put a man in space, do something more spectacular than SPUTNIK?

We have arrived in Oz. We tear down the curtain and find THE COLD WAR. Oaths have been taken. There is a CODE OF SILENCE. Our brightest minds are given a new name. It doesn’t take long for them to conclude they have been compromised, and used. There is no way out of this covert world.

I thank the writer, Boris Kaccha, for his article on Pynchon and Mary Ann, that took us into the UNKNOWN. Boris took a good shot in the dark.

“Let there be light!”

It’s time for Tom to come out of the cold.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2014



“On the face of it, the idea that [the Marxist] Oswald could get a job at a space agency installation requiring security clearance seems preposterous. . . . But [Jim] Garrison points out that it is an open secret that the CIA uses the NASA facility as a cover for clandestine operations.”
Greg 1979 & Wife at their Wedding


According to Bailey, Pynchon “wrote for an intramural sheet called the ‘Minuteman Field Service News’ (to be distinguished from the company’s official house organ, The Boeing News).” Specifically, the two men “worked in the Minuteman Logistics Support Program,” and Pynchon had “a ‘Secret’ clearance.” Pynchon, Bailey recalls, was an introvert, had few friends at Boeing, and, while working, would occasionally “shroud himself in the enormous stiff sheets of paper used for engineering drawings and work within this cocoon, like an aerospace Bartleby, by whatever light filtered in” (96). The men became friendly when “Bailey made a casual literary reference one day, which generated an immediate and enthusiastic response from Pynchon.” Pynchon, Bailey discovered, was “‘very literate'” and also well-versed in “technical matters” (97). Unfortunately, Bailey’s reminiscences end there (except for a further brief reference, relegated to an endnote, to Pynchon’s technical competence), and Cowart, like Winston, fails to inquire further–about either Minuteman Field Service News or, more intriguingly, what Pynchon wrote for it.

“Two of Pynchon’s Cornell friends, his future girlfriend Tharaldsen and her then-husband, David ­Seidler, had moved to Seattle and encouraged Pynchon to join them. Tharaldsen says Pynchon arrived “depressed—very down.” She worked for Boeing, and hooked him up with a job writing technical copy for their in-house guide, Bomarc Service News. The aerospace giant was just then developing the Minuteman, a nuclear-capable missile that likely inspired Pynchon, years later, to cast Germany’s World War II–era V-2 rocket as the screaming menace of Gravity’s Rainbow. (One of the joys of tracking Pynchon is tracing the far-flung interconnections in his work to unlikely real-world experiences—dating an NSA worker; seeing Charles de Gaulle in Mexico; fooling around on a primitive music synthesizer in 1972.)

Boeing-built Minuteman missile systems, operated by the Air Force Combat Command, are long-range, solid-fuel, three-stage, intercontinental ballistic missiles capable of carrying single or multiple nuclear warheads.

The program, which began in 1958, is one of the company’s longest military contracts. By April 1967, 1,000 Minuteman missiles were operational and installed in six sites across the country. At peak production, 39,700 Boeing people worked on Minuteman projects. The company built, installed and maintained the missiles in their silos and trained Air Force personnel involved in the program.

Originally a chemical weapons manufacturing facility for World War II, the arsenal became the focal point of the Army’s rocket and space projects, including development of the first U.S. ballistic missiles and space launch vehicles in the 1950s.




Engineering physics, the hardest program at Cornell, was meant to supply Cold War America with its elites—the best and the brightest, junior league. One professor called its students “intellectual supermen”; Pynchon’s old friend David ­Shetzline remembers them as “the slide-rule boys.” But after less than two years in the major, Pynchon left Cornell in order to enlist in another Cold War operation, the Navy. He once wrote that ­calculus was “the only class I ever failed,” but he’s always used self-deprecation to deflect inquiries, and professors ­remembered universally good grades. Tharaldsen says she saw Pynchon’s IQ score, somewhere in the 190s. So why would he leave? He wrote much later about feeling in college “a sense of that other world humming out there”—a sense that would surely nag him from one city to another for the rest of his life. He was also in thrall to Thomas Wolfe and Lord Byron. Most likely he wanted to follow their examples, to experience adventure at ground level and not from the command centers.

His alienation had begun to coalesce into a worldview. Pynchon had written to the Sales that Seattle “is a nightmare. If there were no people in it it would be beautiful.” In his next letter, he complained that a group of “ten more or less individuals” at Boeing, “assembled in a conference room … turned into something else: The Magazine.” His letters, like his books, brim with the tension between individuals and groups, between intense curiosity and hopeless disillusionment. For much of his life he would flee crowds and cities, dipping a toe into cultures and communities and then leaving and skewering them in turn. (Friends describe him, in person as on the page, as an incomparable mimic.) Only rarely do we see him ask himself why—as when the Sales, later, pressed him on whether he hated Mexico, too. “What I hate is inside, not outside,” he wrote back, “a kind of deathwish I never knew I had.

In Mexico, Tharaldsen says, Pynchon wrote all night, slept all day, and kept mostly to himself. When he didn’t write, he read—mainly Latin American writers like Jorge Luis Borges, a big influence on his second novel, The Crying of Lot 49. (He also translated Julio Cortázar’s short story “Axolotl.”)

In his next letter, he complained that a group of “ten more or less individuals” at Boeing, “assembled in a conference room … turned into something else: The Magazine.” His letters, like his books, brim with the tension between individuals and groups, between intense curiosity and hopeless disillusionment. For much of his life he would flee crowds and cities, dipping a toe into cultures and communities and then leaving and skewering them in turn.



Lee Oswald: Space Cadet?
Dave Reitzes
Since conspiracy theorists suspect every other U.S. government agency of some sinister role in Kennedy’s assassination, it’s no surprise to find that they suspect NASA too.
Anthony Summers writes:

“Before he left the William Reily Coffee Company, Oswald visited [garage owner Adrian Alba] to say goodbye. According to the record, he had been fired for malingering. Yet Oswald seemed pleased, telling Alba he expected to work next at the New Orleans plant of NASA — the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. He never did work there, although four of his colleagues at Reily did move to NASA within weeks of Oswald’s departure. At all events Oswald departed, telling Alba, ‘I have found my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow'” (Anthony Summers, Conspiracy, 1989, Paragon House, 284).
This struck me as an extremely intriguing claim, and I wondered if I could verify it.
The sources listed in Summers’ endnotes (p. 589) refer to Adrian Alba’s recollections of Oswald, but not the particular claim that four of Oswald’s Reily co-workers moved “to NASA within weeks of Oswald’s departure.”

When Thomas Pynchon is just Tom: A remarkable collection debuts

May 5, 2011 | 2:08 pm


Thomas Pynchon has surfaced in a remarkable book collection and the memories of his lifelong friend Phyllis Gebauer, who shared stories of one of America’s most reclusive writers Wednesday night in Los Angeles.

The only known collection of signed first editions of Pynchon’s works, a gift to the UCLA Extension Writers Program, debuted at an invitation-only event in Westwood. Although the exceedingly private author does not hold public book signings, he sent inscribed copies of each of his books as they were published to Phyllis and Fred Gebauer. The writer and the couple became friends in the early 1960s.

Most of Pynchon’s inscriptions include personal comments. In “The Crying of Lot 49,” Pynchon wrote, “For Fred and Phyllis, who saw this first, though we’re still friends anyway. — Tom.” One, in “Gravity’s Rainbow,” includes an illustration of a smiling pig, harking back to a piñata the Gebauers brought him as a gift when they were all living in Southern California.


Phyllis Gebauer was at the event to discuss the books, her friendship with Pynchon — whom she calls “Tom” — and the collection, which she hopes will fund scholarships to the UCLA Extension Writers Program where Gebauer has taught for more than two decades.

Gebauer talked to Pynchon extensively about the gift. “When Tom lived in L.A. he did a lot of research at the UCLA research library,” she said. “He likes the idea of these books being used to fund scholarships.” The two spoke on the phone for 90 minutes Tuesday, she said. Pynchon followed up with a fax, which Gebauer read to Wednesday night’s audience.

“I was planning to skydive into the middle of these proceedings,” joked Pynchon, who didn’t even attend the National Book Awards when “Gravity’s Rainbow” won in 1974. “Thank you for your teaching,” he continued. “Good work and good vibes to everybody there.”

The relationship between Pynchon and the Gebauers was based on a strange combination: a shared reticence paired with playfulness. And a fondness for charades.

In the early 1960s, Phyllis was a Spanish teacher in Seattle, married to Fred Gebauer, a mechanical engineer doing work at Boeing he couldn’t discuss. At a party celebrating a mutual friend’s new piano, the two met Pynchon, a technical writer working for another part of Boeing. Pynchon and Fred clowned around by reaching into the piano and plucking out the Yogi Bear theme song on its strings — “which did not delight the host,” Phyllis Gebauer said Wednesday night.

Fred couldn’t talk about his work, and Pynchon never mentioned he was writing a novel — instead, they talked and joked and Phyllis made lasagna and they played charades. “He’s a great charades player,” Phyllis said. “He’s great at puns. They’re awful.”

Fred and Phyllis only learned that Pynchon had been working on a novel when he sent them a copy of his first book, “V,” published in 1963.

The Gebauers’ lives separated from Pynchon’s. Phyllis, in a “mini-memoir” distributed at the event, wrote that aerospace workers of the era were called ” ‘aero-braceros,’ because they changed jobs and locales as frequently as Mexican field hands.”

The couple had moved several times in just a few years when Fred took a job at NASA — another one he couldn’t discuss — and, after being in Houston just a week, they bumped into Pynchon after a concert. “Phyl, Fred, what are you guys doing here?” she remembers Pynchon calling to them. The coincidence was the kind of thing that might happen in one of Pynchon’s books — but in Pynchon’s world it would have been the result of a deep and complex conspiracy.

The reconnected friends spent a lot of time together. In her mini-memoir, titled “Tom and Us,” Phyllis writes that Pynchon and Fred used to shoot toy rockets off the roof of their Houston house. She recalls that more than once she’d be talking to Pynchon on the phone, hand it over to Fred when she left for one of her graduate school classes — and she’d return hours later to find Fred still sitting in their knotty-pine lined family room, still talking to Tom on the other end of line.

“Tom at the time was working on ‘The Crying of Lot 49,’ and when that book came out and I read about his heroine — Oedipa Mass — ‘layering lasagna’ at the beginning of Chapter One,” Phyllis writes, “well, I can’t prove it, but hey — I’m sure that was our lasagna!”

When the Gebauers left Houston for Los Angeles Pynchon was right there with them — literally. They drove their Volvo and Pynchon drove their Hillman convertible. While living in Southern California — Pynchon is thought to have resided in Manhattan Beach, though Phyllis carefully avoided mentioning any specifics — their friendship continued, and the Gebauers brought Pynchon a pig piñata, which they named Claude.

A previously unpublished photograph of Phyllis, Claude and Pynchon — just his right arm, extending from behind a door with his hand in a peace sign — appears at the back of “Tom and Us,” dated 1965.

Claude was perhaps the inspiration for what is thought to be the most valuable inscription of Gebauer’s collection, the sketch of a smiling pig saying “Love” in the 1973 novel “Gravity’s Rainbow.” That book was Pynchon’s most controversial. In addition to winning the 1974 National Book Award, it was unanimously recommended by the judging committee to be awarded the Pulitzer Prize. However, the recommendation was overturned by the advisory board, which found the book “unreadable,” “turgid,” “overwritten” and “obscene,” and elected not to award any Pulitzer for fiction that year.

Although by this time they were again living in different parts of the country, Pynchon continued to send inscribed books to Fred and Phyllis Gebauer. His inscription in 2006’s “Against the Day” was the first to Phyllis alone; Fred passed away in 1998.

Gebauer says Pynchon is not reclusive but simply very private. She channeled the author to describe his perspective: “Some people can pull this off, the balance between writing and going out to parties — Stephen King, Joyce Carol Oates. I get too easily distracted and I’m not good at schmoozing.”

In 2010, Phyllis met up with Pynchon in New York, where he handed her a copy of his most recent novel, the SoCal spoof “Inherent Vice,” over a seafood lunch in midtown Manhattan. Indeed, the writer is able to move around New York without being recognized.

“We toured this whole Barcelona exhibit,” Gebauer said Wednesday. “Nobody in his building knows who he is. Nobody knows what he does.”

In an era in which a Wikipedia scan identifies Pynchon’s wife, a literary agent, and son by name, his privacy could be one avid Googler away.

She’s discussed this precariousness with Pynchon. “In today’s world” she said, “the privacy he gets is that people seldom read.”

– Carolyn Kellogg

Photos, from top: A first edition of Thomas Pynchon’s “The Crying of Lot 49″ inscribed by the author to Fred and Phyllis Gebauer, on display at UCLA; Pynchon’s inscription in “Gravity’s Rainbow” to the Gebauers, with pig cartoon; Phyllis Gebauer, with Claude the pig piñata and Pynchon waving a peace sign from behind the door, in Southern California in 1965. Credits: Carolyn Kellogg / Los Angeles Times; UCLA Extension

So let’s try another source. In Deadly Secrets (1992, Thunder’s Mouth Press), Warren Hinckle and William Turner write, “Oswald told Adrian Alba, the owner of the garage next door to where he was working, that his application was about to be accepted ‘out there where the gold is’ — the NASA Saturn missile plant in suburban Gentilly. NASA of course didn’t employ security risks. But tucked into its Gentilly facility was an active CIA station that provided a Kelly Girl service for operatives in between assignments” (p. 239).

The endnote reads, “The CIA’s practice of providing interim employment for its agents and assets is well known,” and refers the reader to an earlier article of William Turner’s, anthologized in The Assassinations: Dallas and Beyond (Peter Dale Scott, Paul L. Hoch and Russell Stetler, eds., 1976, Vintage Books), page 287.

The passage in Turner repeats the familiar statement from Adrian Alba, then adds, “On the face of it, the idea that [the Marxist] Oswald could get a job at a space agency installation requiring security clearance seems preposterous. . . . But [Jim] Garrison points out that it is an open secret that the CIA uses the NASA facility as a cover for clandestine operations.”

So the assertion that the NASA installation housed a CIA station would appear to actually be the unsourced claim of Jim Garrison.

Let’s see what Garrison has to say about all this. In his memoirs, Garrison begins with an item relating to a suspect of his, David Ferrie. Garrison writes, “Ferrie, once a pilot for Eastern Airlines, had been investigated by a private detective agency. I obtained a copy of its report. The investigators had maintained a stakeout near his residence and found that Ferrie was visited frequently by a man named Dante Marachini” (sic — Marochini; Garrison, On the Trail of the Assassins, 1991, Warner Books, 133-4).

Garrison notes that Marochini resided at 1309 Dauphine Street, which Garrison describes as being next door to the home of Garrison suspect Clay Shaw. He then observes that another resident of the building at 1309 Dauphine was James Lewallen, who had once shared an apartment with David Ferrie (Ibid., 134).

Some time later, I came across the name of Dante Marachini (sic) again. I had wanted to talk to individuals at the Reily Coffee Company who had worked with Lee Oswald or at a level immediately above him, so I sent Frank Klein over to the company to get their names and respective positions.
He returned rather quickly. “They’re all gone,” he said. “Anyone who ever had any connection with Lee Oswald left the Reily Company within a few weeks after Oswald did.” He laid a sheet of paper in front of me. “Here are the names and the new jobs.”

I glanced down at the list. One name jumped out at me immediately: Dante Marachini (sic). He had begun work at the Reily Coffee Company on exactly the same day as Oswald. Several weeks after Oswald’s departure, Marachini (sic) also left the company and began life anew at the Chrysler Aerospace Division at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), on the eastern side of New Orleans.

I then noticed that Alfred Claude, who hired Oswald for Reily, had also gone to work for the Chrysler Aerospace Division.

Then I saw that John Branyon, who had worked with Oswald at the coffee company, had left for a job at NASA.

At just about the same time, Emmett Barbee (sic — Barbe), Oswald’s immediate boss at Reily, left the coffee company and also inaugurated a new career with NASA (Garrison, 134-5).
He also found that James Lewallen, Ferrie’s onetime apartment mate, was working “for Boeing at NASA” (Ibid.).
Strangely, Garrison doesn’t mention anything about the facility housing a CIA station — something I’d expect him to emphasize, if true — but the information is intriguing nevertheless. So I went to see if I could verify the report.

The Warren Commission published a sworn affidavit from Emmett Charles Barbe, Jr., in their Hearings volumes (11 H 473). The affidavit was dictated by Mr. Barbe on June 15, 1964. Oddly, despite the claim that “Anyone who ever had any connection with Lee Oswald left the Reily Company within a few weeks after Oswald,” Emmett Barbe, Oswald’s supervisor at Reily, was still employed by the Reily company in 1964:

Emmett Charles Barbe, Jr. of New Orleans, La., being duly sworn, says:
1. I am employed by William B. Reily Company, Inc., as Maintenance Foreman. The William B. Reily Company plant is located at 640 Magazine Street, New Orleans, Louisiana. I have been employed by that Company for five years. During the year 1963 I was serving as Maintenance Foreman.
Emmett Barbe’s name also comes up in the Warren Commission testimony of one Charles Le Blanc, who trained Oswald at Reily, and described himself as probably Oswald’s closest associate there (10 H 217). Le Blanc was also still employed by Reily at the time of his April 1964 Warren Commission deposition (10 H 214).
His testimony seems fairly innocuous. Here’s a representative sample:

Mr. LE BLANC. . . . The way I broke him in, I told him, “Make sure that you have got everything on that one floor,” and I said, “If it takes you a day to do it, let it take you a day,” I said, “but make sure that you have got everything greased and oiled and cleaned.” And that is what he was supposed to do, and I told him, I said, “Then if you get finished the fifth floor, or whatever floor you are on, you can always work to the next floor.” And then in the evening at 3:15 when the lines were shut down, we had these three machines that had to be cleaned, oiled and greased every day and sometimes twice a day it all depends on how they ran and he had to see to it that each evening at 3:15 they was cleaned and greased.
Mr. LIEBELER. Now did he have anybody keeping track of him as a general proposition? He really didn’t, did he? I mean, he was just—-

Mr. LE BLANC. Well, the majority of the time he had somebody over him, but as a practice, I mean after you got broke in on your job, well, they wouldn’t look after you, keep looking after you. They figured, well, you knew your job and you would go ahead and do your job. But after awhile, well, they seen he was drifting off. Right to the last day before they let him go, why, we kept an eye on him, because we seen then that he wasn’t doing, the work that he was supposed to be doing.

Mr. LIEBELER. He really wasn’t doing the work?


Mr. LIEBELER . He wasn’t greasing the machines?

Mr. LE BLANC. No. And you see, we have a greasing log that when you grease the machine you log it the day that you grease it, and actually a lot of times I think he might have put stuff down in the log that he didn’t even get to sometimes.

Mr. LIEBELER. Just so I can get an idea of what kind of work he was doing, how were the machines greased? Did he have a grease gun or cups and—-

Mr. LE BLANC. Yes; well, we have an air grease gun and we also have these hand-type grease guns.

Mr. LIEBELER. And you used just regular Alemite fittings and grease guns?

Mr. LE BLANC. Yes.

Mr. LIEBELER So I would imagine from time to time he ended up with the grease on his hands and it was a greasy job?

Mr. LE BLANC. Yes; it was a dirty job.

Mr. LIEBELER. Did he ever complain about that?

Mr. LE BLANC. Well, he would complain now and then. I would tell him, well, that goes in with the job of oiling and greasing.

Mr. LIEBELER. Now was he just basically an oiler and greaser, or was he classified as a maintenance man?


Mr. LIEBELER. That is a different thing?

Mr. LE BLANC. He was hired as an oiler and greaser and helper (10 H 215-6).
Alfred Claude is next on Garrison’s list. Here we strike pay dirt. Alfred A. Claude, Jr., was interviewed by the FBI on November 26, 1963. He indeed was employed at the “Chrysler Aerospace Division, National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), Michoud, Louisiana,” which was where the FBI interviewed him. He had been with Chrysler since he resigned from Reily’s personnel office on July 1, 1963, which he estimated to be about four weeks after Oswald’s departure, loosely fitting the “few weeks” Garrison attributes to Frank Klein. Claude’s interview also seems fairly innocuous, devoted largely to Oswald’s poor work habits and quiet personality (CE 1940, 23 H 734).
Unlike Claude, however, Claude’s former associate in Reily’s personnel office, Robert Hedrick, had not moved to NASA, and was still at Reily when the FBI interviewed him on November 25, 1963 (CE 1903, 23 H 706).

Another co-worker, Arturo Mendez Rodriguez, was interviewed by the FBI on November 25, 1963. The report doesn’t state that he was still at Reily, but his occupation is listed as “Oiler — mechanic,” and “oiler” was the position he held at Reily, as did Oswald. If Rodriguez had changed employers, the report does not say so (CE 1898, 23 H 703). Rodriguez is also mentioned in passing in the Warren Commission deposition of Charles Le Blanc (10 H 217). Again, if Rodriguez left his job at Reily, there is no indication of it.

John Branyon was another name mentioned by Garrison. Like Claude, he too was indeed employed by NASA. However, Branyon did not work at the Chrysler plant — he worked at the Boeing Aircraft Division. He said that Oswald was still employed at Reily when he himself resigned on July 3, 1963. His statement describes Oswald’s duties as a machine oiler and his “lone wolf” personality (CE 1941, 23 H 735).

Another Reily employee’s name comes up in the Warren Commission volumes. John C. Clark was interviewed on November 25, 1963 (CE 1899, 23 H 704). He was still Reily’s Assistant Vice-President in Charge of Production.

Dante Marochini is not mentioned in the Warren Commission volumes, possibly because he had not been a co-worker of Oswald’s at all. Paris Flammonde describes “Marachini” as “a forty-two-year-old parts-scheduler for the Chrysler Company’s Michoud Assembly Facility” (Flammonde, The Kennedy Conspiracy, 1969, Meredith Press). Information in Flammonde suggests that Marochini probably had not known Oswald: “In April 1963, Marochini found employment with the Standard Coffee Company, owned by the William B. Reily Company, with locations at 725 and 640 Magazine. During the same period, Lee Harvey Oswald was employed at the same 640 Magazine address as an employee of the William B. Reily Coffee Company” (Ibid.). But according to researcher David Blackburst, Marochini did not work at the same location as Oswald after all.

Furthermore, if Marochini started at Reily in April 1963, he could not have “begun work at the Reily Coffee Company on exactly the same day as Oswald,” as Garrison claimed: Oswald began at Reily on May 10, 1963 (11 H 474).

Dante Marochini was subpoenaed by Garrison to appear before the grand jury in 1967. If the DA learned anything of value from Marochini’s secret grand jury testimony, he doesn’t say so in his book. In fact, he doesn’t mention that he ever questioned Marochini at all.

At one point, Garrison was certain that major aerospace contractors were culprits in an assassination conspiracy, as shown in an hilarious account from Warren Hinckle, the editor of Ramparts Magazine.

Paris Flammonde also reports that when Marochini was subpoenaed by Garrison on March 3, 1967, Marochini’s address was not 1309 Dauphine, but 4951 Music (Flammonde, 78). It is possible, of course, that Marochini had moved by that time.

I asked Ferrie expert David Blackburst whether Marochini was a friend of Ferrie’s. Blackburst informed me that the December 19, 1962, installment of the 1962-3 Southern Research report on Ferrie, commissioned by Eastern Air Lines in preparation for Ferrie’s dismissal/grievance hearings, details a surveillance of Ferrie’s apartment by Jack Oliphant on November 16, 1962. Oliphant observed Ferrie and two men leave the apartment and get into a car, and the registration was traced to Dante Marochini. Marochini, Blackburst reports, was a friend of Ferrie’s then-roommate, James Lewallen (E-mail to author, June 9, 1999).

Flammonde also mentions James Lewallen: “The thirty-eight-year-old, Cleveland-born James Ronald Lewallen, a quality inspector for the Boeing Company, worked at the Michoud Saturn rocket plant . . . Lewallen, a licensed (former Air Force) pilot, has been with Boeing in the Michoud plant since 1964, except for a brief period when he was farmed out to the Mississippi Test Facility in Hancock County, Mississippi. Reportedly possessed of security clearance, his sixty-day assignment in Mississippi was to check out ground support equipment for the test firing of the Saturn V booster. Lewallen was rated by a supervisor as having ‘a relatively good background in aircraft repair,’ and regarded him as a mild-mannered individual” (Flammonde, 180-1).

Flammonde also reports that Clay Shaw lived at 1313 Dauphine, suggesting that Garrison erred just slightly in placing James Lewallen’s 1309 Dauphine home “right next door” to Clay Shaw’s home — not that it makes much of a difference (Garrison, 134).

So while, in the end, Garrison was correct in stating that some of Oswald’s former co-workers had resigned from Reily and gained employment at the NASA installation in Michoud, the number turned out to be not four, but two — Alfred Claude and John Branyon — and one was hired at the Chrysler plant, while the other found a job at Boeing.

If Frank Klein did report to Jim Garrison that “Anyone who ever had any connection with Lee Oswald left the Reily Company within a few weeks after Oswald,” that report would have been false. In fact, the three Reily employees who had the most contact with Oswald — Emmett Barbe, Arturo Rodriguez and Charles Le Blanc — all seem to have still been with Reily well after Oswald’s departure.

In summation, Anthony Summers’ assertion that “four of [Oswald's] colleagues at Reily did move to NASA within weeks of Oswald’s departure” seems to have originated with Jim Garrison’s erroneous claim, first published by William Turner in 1968. From what we now know, a reasonable inference about the relationship between NASA and the Reily employees might be that the newly opened Michoud plant was hiring for better wages than those paid by the Reily Coffee Company, and, if Adrian Alba’s recollections are correct, it’s possible that Oswald was planning to apply for a job at NASA.

If, on the other hand, the remarks Alba attributes to Oswald were actually spoken by another Reily employee of Alba’s acquaintance, it would explain why this individual was so optimistic about his future at NASA, somewhere Oswald never even applied for a position. It would also explain why he said, “I have found my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,” a statement which does not sound much like the Oswald we know, who denounced capitalism and complained to his friend George De Mohrenschildt that his wife was too materialistic.

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Authors Channeling Pigs







America authors, Royal Rosamond, and Thomas Pynchon, are in the Rosamond family tree. These writers adopted a pig as a mascot. In Roy’s story ‘Guilty’ that was published in Out West magazine in 1912, a crawfish catcher goes out to Santa Cruz Island to get sober, and befriends a wild piglet.

“I thought that the wild pigs of Santa
Cruz were entirely exterminated. Not
long ago the Island Company gave a
dollar bounty for their skins and they
were killed by the thousands. Am I

“Santa Cruz is rough; lots of brush
and chapparal and caves where they
can hide. There are plenty wild pigs
left. I killed nine while I was over
there. Killed the pig’s mother. He
wasn’t any bigger than my fist when I
got him, still sucking. I took him home
and fed him on canned cow.”


In ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’ Pynchon writes a poem about a pig.

“A pig is a jolly companion,
Boar, sow, barrow, or gilt –
A pig is a pal, who’ll boost your morale,
Though mountains may topple and tilt.
When they’ve blackballed, bamboozled, and burned you,
When they’ve turned on you, Tory and Whig,
Though you may be thrown over by Tabby and Rover,
You’ll never go wrong with a pig, a pig,
You’ll never go wrong with a pig!”

Pynchon’s words could have been the testimony given to a judge by John Sifford.

“Go on,” urged the judge. “You
camped in Lady’s Harbor — you and the
pig, I understand.”

“Yes, I was alone over there — me and
the pig. I got him a few days after I
pitched camp and it would have been as
lonely as lonesome if it hadn’t been for

From the front porch of Pynchon’s apartment on 33rd. Street, you can see the ocean. Could you see the Channel Islands on a clear day? Above is a photograph of Tom’s arm and fingers giving the peace-sign. His friend, Phyllis Gauber has brought Tom a pig piñata that was named, Claude. Consider Clyde, the orangutan in Eastwood”s movie.

This pig theme is quite a coincidence. Royal was friends of Black Mask authors and camped with some of them on the Channel Islands. Royal’s granddaughter, Christine Rosamond Benton, is kin to Jessie Benton, who held a salon at Black Point where Mark Twain and Bret Harte discussed the literary Mecca the West had become. Thomas Pynchon is now included in this literary circle. How much influence did Harte and Twain have on Thomas?

Pynchon signs a book with a illustration of a pig emitting the word “LOVE”. Did our mutual ex, Mary Ann Tharaldsen, give birth to Clyde when she painted a human pig in her painting ‘Bottomless, Unfillable Nothingness’? One writer claims Pynchon had images and models of pigs all through his home on 33rd, that he shared with his wife, Mary Ann, whom I married in March of 1979. Claude comes from Claudius, the Roman Emperor. A Roman pig?

Like many Yuppie-Pigs, Big-brained Mary Ann got into real estate. Why didn’t she buy her old digs and run a the ‘Porky Pig Bed & Breakfast’?
Guests can choose what pet pig they want to snuggle with, and, how much bacon they want on their plate in the morning.

“Hug em. Smoke em. Eat em all up!”

Jon Presco

“When the Gebauers left Houston for Los Angeles Pynchon was right there with them — literally. They drove their Volvo and Pynchon drove their Hillman convertible. While living in Southern California — Pynchon is thought to have resided in Manhattan Beach, though Phyllis carefully avoided mentioning any specifics — their friendship continued, and the Gebauers brought Pynchon a pig piñata, which they named Claude.

A previously unpublished photograph of Phyllis, Claude and Pynchon — just his right arm,  extending from behind a door with his hand in a peace sign — appears at the back of “Tom and Us,” dated 1965.












By Roy Reuben Rosamond

JOHN Sifford, you are before this

^^ court charged with assault and

s^s battery. “Now it becomes the

We^ duty of the court to inform you

of your rights under the law. You are

entitled to a reasonable time for the

trial, to have witnesses subpoenaed in

your behalf, to employ counsel, should

you so desire, and to be admitted to

bail. With this information what say

you to the charge, guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty,” answered the prisoner,

a man of perhaps thirty, tall, deep of

chest, ugly, bovine, a man no woman,

save his mother, had ever loved. A new

suit of black serge hung awkwardly upon

his ungainly figure.

“It does not appear to me,” the
judge resumed, quizzically, “that the
trouble, derived from the eating of a
pet pig, hog, or pork — or pig’s feet —
justifies the sentence I am about to

Dullness had impregnated the justice
court-room of Santa Barbara and re-
mained until the word was irksome. A
late spring rain was falling and human
nature attempting to content itself in-
doors. The judge was making the best
of it. There were but four other per-
sons in the court-room, the jail guard in
charge of the prisoner, the complainant
with his mouth showing the services of
a surgeon, and his lawyer.

“Go ahead with the sentence, the

sooner the quicker,” said the prisoner.

“The complainant’s lawyer has stated

the case clearly,” the judge went on,
“but pigs are indeed interesting and, as
you come before this court unrepresented,
I would like to hear your side of the

“The court has the facts at hand,”
stated the prisoner.

“Which are,” the judge continued with
no attempt to veil a smile, “that the
accused gave into the keeping of one
Joe Andrada, a Spaniard — and very
fond of pigs on the table — a pet pig, to
be housed and fed — and petted — by
said Joe Andrada during a period not
to exceed two weeks, in consideration
of the sum of ten dollars. And further-
more, it was solemnly pledged that, at
the conclusion of the two weeks, as afore-
said, said accused would return and
take unto himself the pig and all pertain-
ing thereunto.

“And,” — the judge was indulging him-
self — ” owing to the fact that said accused
failed to comply with the above stated
contract, returning two days later than
the time therein specified and finding
said pig in the stomach of said complain-
ant, said accused engaged said complain-
ant in pitched battle resulting in the loss,
to said complainant, of four teeth of
the cuspid variety, and otherwise in-
flicted serious wounds upon the body of
said complainat.

“And now the question naturally
arises, was the pig sacred, or — or one of
the family?”



“The pig had a damn sight bigger
heart than — ”

The judge rapped loudly with the

“Don’t forget that there is such a
thing as contempt of court.” The
judge’s lips were firmly set for the mo-
ment, anger took the place of humor.

“Pile two contempts on top of the
other charge, but let me blow my bazoo
in my own way. As I was saying, the
pig had & damn sight bigger heart than
some judges.”

“Complainant can best answer as to
that,” said the judge. “I see that it
was love of the pig rather than infidelity
on the part of complainant that caused
the trouble. Where did vou get the

“On Santa Cruz Island,” answered the

“You were craw-fishing over there
last season?”

“Yes, I went over when the season
opened, about six months ago.”

“I thought that the wild pigs of Santa
Cruz were entirely exterminated. Not
long ago the Island Company gave a
dollar bounty for their skins and they
were killed by the thousands. Am I

“Santa Cruz is rough; lots of brush
and chapparal and caves where they
can hide. There are plenty wild pigs
left. I killed nine while I was over
there. Killed the pig’s mother. He
wasn’t any bigger than my fist when I
got him, still suckHng. I took him home
and fed him on canned cow.”

The prisoner ceased talking.

“Go on,” urged the judge. “You
camped in Lady’s Harbor — you and the
pig, I understand.”

” Yes, I was alone over there — me and
the pig. I got him a few days after I
pitched camp and it would have been as
lonely as lonesome if it hadn’t been for
him. Lady’s Harbor is just a deep
gulch with a small stream of water —
awful good water — running down to
the sea. You can’t see out — only out
to sea, where the ships go by every day
or so to make one feel what a God-for-
saken place it is in winter. I wouldn’t
see a soul for a week at a time, and then

only for a few moments when the launch
stopped to buy my bugs and leave grub.

“There were men camping in the
other harbors, but they never came up
my way — heard of me, I suppose. I
would see them once in a while out in
the skiff pulling their pots and they al-
ways went two in a boat. Could work
better that way; one row and one pull
pots. One thing mighty certain, I never
went to them to break the spell.

” If you know anything about a craw-
fisher’s life, you know that he has a lot
of time for monkeying around after pul-
ling his pots in the morning. He has
to wait for the bugs to slip into the
traps. When I didn’t have to fish for
bait, I’d put in the time fooling with the
pig. He would keep things on the
keen jump.- > As good as a circus was that

“Over the hill to the right of Lady’s
Harbor is another little gulch and when
it meets the sea it forms a sand beach.
It is a wide little strip at low tide and
clams elbow each other for room to grow.
I tell you what, the pig learned to dig
clams right away; by watching me. I
suppose. And he would watch for the
bubbles they make before he’d get the
last one rooted out. After a while
all I had to do was to follow him with a
bucket and pick them up. Quick! That
pig was as quick after a clam as greased
lightening. He knew that he had to

“I used to take him with me in the
morning when I pulled the pots. I’d
turn the bugs loose in the bottom of the
skiff and watch the fun. He wasn’t
afraid of them when they were still; but
when they’d come toward him squeak-
ing their hinges he was some wild pig.
The bristles on his back would all stick
up straight.

“Well, that was all right for a while,
until the pig grew so heavy that he’d
rock the boat and just about capsize her
when he’d change from one side to
another. I wore holes in my pants and
then holes in the patches sliding from
one side of the seat to the other keeping
her balanced.

“The trouble began when I had to
leave him home. There is a little cave
over to the right of the cove a little way



up from the beach where the sun shines
in in the morning. The sea must have
been up there some time or another.
Anyhow, I put some old traps across
the opening and fastened the pig in
there until I got back. He stayed in
pretty well for a day or so; and then one
day when I was coming into the harbor
there he was standing on a ledge of rock
that thrusts its nose out to sea waiting
for me. He was just singing a little
squealing song, he was so glad to get out
of the cave and to see me; and then he
must have stepped on a loose rock for
I saw him fall off and go plumb under.
He came up sputtering and instead of
making for shore he came swimming
out to me and I lifted him aboard.
After that there was no holding him in
the cave. He’d be out and waiting for
me on the rock about every day and
when I’d come in sight around the point
of rock by the harbor he’d plunge right
in and meet me way out from shore.
One day he got out of the pen early —
right away after I left. Anyhow he
knew the direction I’d gone and followed
along the island until he got opposite
me. I was a good quarter of a mile
from shore and it was damn lucky my
next buoy was toward shore. While
I was looking for it I spied the little
devil swimming for me for all he was
worth. There wasn’t any wind but a
strong swell was running and the current
was against him. I rowed toward him
as if my life depended on it and when
I got to him he was just about to pass
to Christmas come. He didn’t shift
about the boat that day, but lay still,
wrapped up in some fish net I had thrown
in the bow of the skiff,

“He was true blue, was that pig. I
thought a lot of him — more than I ever
did of any human being, except my
mother. I could tell a lot more about
the things he did and the things he learned
but you’d swear I was nature faking.
Of course the pig and me would have
our troubles and quarrels like anybody
else. I kept a little paddle hung on the
tent pole for him; and he would get it
like sixty when he got into mischief.
One day I spanked him good for getting
into the dough. He didn’t run but
just grabbed ahold of the tent rope and
nearly shook it off the poles, he was so

mad. He would let go a continual
whine when he was hungry, grab me
by the pant leg and shake if I didn’t feed
him. He’d want clams when the tide
was high and he couldn’t dig them; and
then he’d run over the hill to the sandy
beach and see if the tide was low enough
to get them. He could express pleasure
and sadness. Could do everything but
talk. He would be right at my heels
as far as I wanted to walk. I’ve tried
to get away from him by climbing a hill
too steep for him, but he’d take a slant
and come up on top after a while crying
for all he was worth because he was
left behind.

“I suppose he got acquainted with some
of the wild pigs around there. I would
hear them up the canyon at night, but
he paid no attention to them. He slept
in a box of straw right outside the tent
and was free to go. But I guess that he
preferred to stay with me. I fed him
good and he grew sleek and fat. I sure
kept him clean, would send for soap
every time the launch come over from
the mainland. We’d go swimming to-
gether and he wasn’t afraid of any breaker
that ever lived. He learned to eat any
kind of fish, but clams were what he
swore by. And he took his meals regular
— wasn’t always nosing around and eat-
ing all the garbage in the country. Just
a cross word from me and he’d know he
was doing the wrong thing. He took as
much interest in making traps and paint-
ing the boat and so forth as I did, appar-
ently. He was always in action because
of which he didn’t give me time to sit
down and get lonesome and brood and
wish that I was ashore where there were
people and something going on. Even
when there was a storm on and I couldn’t
go out to the pots for a day or two or
three at a time we would always find
something to do if it wasn’t anything but
go over on the lea side of the island and
sit there in the shelter and watch the
whitecaps breaking and listen to the
wind blow. We built us a little dugout
among the rock and both of us would
curl up in there and go to sleep. I’d
lay down with my back against the
pig and we would breathe together and
be warm and fine and dandy. And
that’s about all about the pig — and
enough, I suppose.”



The prisoner sat down.

The judge let go a supercilious laugh,
ending in a few bars of cackle. ” When
I was a kid I went to a side show and saw
a pig that could play seven-up. I
suppose yours could play poker; or
perhaps crib? If he couldn’t the show
pig could put it all over him for wisdom,
and your pig story should have come last.”
The judge ended with a sneer. “How-
ever,” he continued, “were the pig as
wise as Solomon, it would have no bear-
ing on the sentence about to be im-

“Which is?” the prisoner’s face shaped
itself into interrogation,

“Ninety days in the county jail with
a membership in the chain-gang.” answer-
ed the judge, chuckling.

All at once the prisoner arose to his
full height, his breast heaving, his eyes
flashing fire.

” Why, you spineless supine of a Judge,
with grocery cord for tendons, damn,

you. I’ve told you

about the pig. But that isn’t the story
at all. Did you know that I went to
hell with the boose and left home when
I was eighteen, the very day I started
for college? During that time up till
now I’ve been everything but a murderer
and a cut-throat. Don’t you know what
boose will do for a man? I’ve counted
the ties and slept in the jungles and stole
chickens and cooked them in a coal oil
can. I’ve stolen money and bought
boose with it when I’d fasted for three
whole days. I would have done worse
than that but the cops were always on
my trail. I sure looked suspicious to
the third degree and I don’t blame them.
I’d get arrested every time I’d stick
my head out in daylight, so I got to
slipping around like a night hawk, to the
rear of the saloons, mostly.

“One night I tried to kill a man for
money for boose, I got my picture in the
rogues gallery for that. That was going
some. Mother found it out. Judge,
you didn’t think I had a mother did you?
Well I did have. One time she sent
for me — registered letter with money in
it and all that. I went home and’ got
on clean clothes and she prayed for me
and fed me up and sent me to the “Gold
Cure. It didn’t do any good. I went
off on a tare when I got back, I would be

gone for six months or a year or so — until
she raised some more money — father
was dead; and then I’d reform for about
a week. And this was the way for ten
years or more.

“The last time I didn’t go home at all.
My drunk lasted two weeks that time,
and I ended up in jail. About a month
after that I learned that mother was
sick in the county hospital up where
she lived. My crippled brother had died
a week before and she had spent all her
money to bury him right.

“Well, that woke me up. I wrote to
her and her answer was a message from
on high. I had a chance to go to the
island and fish and I grasped at the
chance to get away from boose and
make some money like a drowning man
grasps at a straw. The owner of a launch
outfitted me, boat, pots and all. But
could I stay over there, away from boose
and the world, you might say. I tried
to get a pardner, but my looks scared
them away.

” Well, I went. And then the pig came
into my life. Many a time I would have
lit out for the boose if it hadn’t been for
him. One day the spell came over me
and the day the boat was due I was all
packed up and waiting. And then while
I was there on the beach monekying with
the pig until the boat hove in sight, I
got to thinking about what I would do
with the little devil. He’d swim after
me if I left him ashore, and I didn’t want
to pen him up, not knowing whether
he’d get out or not. We’d become pals
I tell you. Men would shy away from
me, but not him. Well, the upshot was
that I put the tent up again and stuck
it out for a few more days.

” I’d done pretty well with the bugs and
the money was burning my pocket, I
suppose. And my stomach was burning
for liquor, too. Anyhow, I made up
my mind to hike again. I made a sail
for the skiff and was about to start across
the channel to Santa Barbara. The boat
would be over in two days, but I couldn’t
wait. It was about twenty-five miles,
but I thought I could make it. Well,
there was the pig again. He was grown
too big to take in the boat and I wouldn’t
leave him. So there I was again.

“When the boat came it brought me
word that mother was in serious condi-



tion. I got aboard, pig and all and went
across the channel, the first time for six
months. Somehow, I forgot about the
boose and when I got a place for the pig,
I took the first train for home and got
there just in time, with good clothes on
and money in my pocket — enough to
bury the happiest mother in the world
and come back here to get the pig only
to find him — “. The prisoner was con-

sumed in livid wrath,
“Judge, go on and send me to jail,

you ; but some day I’ll be a free

man, and then I’ll meet you in the
road and make you respect the pig or
give you what I did the devil over there.
And, Joe Andrada, some day I’ll meet you
and finish the job, meanwhile I’ll ask
my guard here to show me the way to
jail, I can’t see very well to-day.”


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Noah’s Ark On Sinjar





Today I heard Mount Sinjar is the resting place of Noah’s Ark.

Come to Rose Mountain!

Jon the Prophet

Since the 12th century,[6] the area around the mountains have been mainly inhabited by Yazidis[7] who venerate them and consider the highest to be the place where Noah’s Ark settled after the biblical flood


What are the odds that out of all the mountains on the earth that the central hot spot in the middle east just happens to be located in the general vacinity of the final resting spot of Noah’s Ark on Mount Sinjar? I though it was recorded in the bible as being on Mount Ararat?
Well –actually not Mount Arart singlly speaking–since the bible says the Mountains –plural –of Ararat! That means one among a whole range of mountains!!

The local tradition of those religious folks who are trapped on top of Mount Sinjar in Iraq or next to the border of Turkey–is that they believe that this mountain is the original resting place of Noah’s Ark!!

We know that tradition sometimes has a central truth to back up its original history!! We know these folks lived in this region for many centuries and even back to the time after the flood–so it is no stretch of the imagination to except the fact that if the Ark of Noah hand setted in that area after the flood waters recided then those in the surrounding area would naturally pass down this information to future generations!!

I was looking at the rock formations that were taken by Ron Wyatt of Tenessee who had originally discovered the Ark of Noah in Turkey –not sure of the exact location–and it appears that the land structure is similar to that of Mount Sinjar–decide for yourself–even to the smallest detail!!

I would be interested to know the exact location of the Ron Wyatt discovery made in Turkey where the Mountain or land formation was turned into a tourist attraction-or national wonder!

Maybe someone could find a prophetic reason why this area of Noah’s Ark is now the center of news coverage as it has become an ARK of Safety to the people and Christians of Iraq seeking refuge from the evil Isis Army!!

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