Above is a photo of my dear friend Bill Arnold who died in 1964. He was hit by a trian. Below Bill is Cristine’s painting ‘The Crossing’.

I watched the show on Women’s liberation last night on PBS. Fans of the artist Rosamond have waited nineteen years to hear how a woman became a world famous artist who outsold most of the greats when it came to posters and lithographs. One would think they would get the Good News from Rosamond’s daughter and youngest sister on how Rosamond struggled to make it in a man’s world, but, there are no words from Shannon Benton, and a smattering from Vicki Presco who grew up in a household with three very dynamic human beings when it came to 60s movement, and what went on before in the San Francisco bay area, and in Los Angeles.

The story of Christine Rosamond Benton, Bill Arnold, and Jon Presco – is the movie about my creative family that were at the vanguard of several liberation Movements during the 60s. But for my blogs, we do not know anything about these artists and how they interacted. How did we influence one another? How was a world-famous woman artist influenced by her brother and his best friend whom Christine had an undying crush on as noted in the letter I received from aunt Lillian?

The reason I do not tell the whole story because of the parasites that are hiding in the background, they installed there by Vicki and Mark Presco who formed an alliance when young, that was counter to the bond Christine and I had. Mark and Vicki were in our shadows. That all changed after Christine drowned. Vicki formed a secret alliance with her older brother in regards to the Family Art. Christine made a big mistake to name Vic’s ‘Little Wife’ as her Executor, for Vicki has always made alliances with one sibling, or one parent, to gain power over all family members.

Vicki has a real gift for this double-crossing! She took lessons from the best. Vic and Rosemary were forever manipulating their four children, subjecting us to a loyalty check, employing us as spies and Little Soldiers in their War of the Roses they waged on the battlefield of their children’s souls.

Then, here come my daughter, Heather Hanson, who believed my family were extras in HER MOVIE. This selfish pig destroyed all hope of family unity – in my natal family. She empowered my brother, who wanted me to include his misogynist, racial blogs in my biography – his rabid attack on the Women’s movement! I refused.

After upsetting the delicate balance of power, Heather withholds my Trust money from me until I sign a document that would GAG ME, keep me from telling the world what this little shit did to me – and my family – with the help of her mother and her lover, Bill Cornwell. And, they title me the Destructive One – and a “parasite”!

A couple of months ago, when I perhaps had my last conversation with Vicki, she said she did not like Bill, his role in our family. This was an eye-opener, because Vicki used the words “her family”. Alas, the Family Torpedo played the ace up her sleeve. Vic’s Little Help-Meet was going for all the gusto. She had Heather and her mother in her back pocket enjoying a juicy secret relationship with them – behind my back! Now, in recalling our family history, she X’s out Bill. This parasite believes she deserves the family art! This is not an artist! What she did for kicks was kiss Vic and Mark’s ass.

Above is Rosamond’s painting ‘The Crossing’. Christine asked me if I had seen this work. I told her I had.

“This is how I dealt with Bill’s death.”

I was repulsed at this incorporation of an event that she was a sideline spectator to, she now putting herself in the Driver’s Seat. Not only was she usurping Bill, she was usurping me. Together, Bill and I were REAL ARTISTS, who worked hard at our craft, who studied the philosophy of the creative process, and owned a bond that was the envy of everyone who knew us. Rosemary became estetemly jealous of this bond the moment she beheld it.

In 1959 Rosemary was driving her Ford Anglia with Mark and his friend Rick Young inside, when she spotted these two boys running down this grassy hill as fast as they could. They were flying! Rosemary pulled over to watch us. Bill and I had just smoked an Alpine cigarette – as fast as we could so we could dizzy. Then Bill shouted

“Run! Run as fast as you can down the hill!” and Bill took off, I right behind him.

I was free. Bill was free. We soared like eagles. Our laughter was like an anthem. Bill was thirteen, I was twelve. We were about to bound across the street, when we heard the screech of a banshee;

“Gregory! What are you doing so far from home?”

I stopped, having recognized the voice of my mother. I had to focus in on it, and saw her rage. Bill pulled up, came to stare at this angry woman, and the two boys in the little blue car. He never forgot this picture. He now understood he had another mission in life, and that was to free his best friend. Bill never had a best friend, because he was an Army Brat. Lt. Colonel Brian C. Arnold had just been discharged from the Army, and he and his son were now civilians.

“I always chose the sleaziest kids to be my friend, because when it came time to move to the next camp, I wouldn’t miss them.”

All evidence suggests that twenty minutes past my eighteenth birthday, Bill drove on to a railroad track outside Ogden Utah, turned his engine off, and the lights, and waited for train he knew was coming, for Bill drove home from his job across this crossing when he got off work at midnight.

This show on PBS begins with a woman recalling the meeting 60s radicals were having, and as a woman spoke, some hippie dude said; “Oh shut up!”

About thirty women in the room left, went to another room, and began to compare notes.

* * *

I believe it was Mark’s idea to keep me from that meeting held in Christine’s home the day after she drowned. I believe Mark helped orchestrate the arrest of our niece, Shannon Benton, for the reason she was naming other family members who had sexually molested her. This comes from Mark’s son.

My ex-brother knew where my minor child was, when I did not. This was a great victory for Mark, a victory over Christine, Bill, and myself. My ex-daughter handed it to him on a silver platter – my head! With me out of the way, my dark covert incestuous family could dwell in peace. With Vic’s death, that left Mark halding the Big Daddy Wallet, he now in control of Victor’s Good Girl Perk System, he now making the girls in the family dance for him, and doublecross the family porphet, artist, and parasite.

In our last and final attempt to forgive, and go forward for the sake of our nieces, Vicki told me Mark had dropped out of sight.

“No one knows where his is. We had a fight!”

“What over?’ I asked.

“Mark was submitting me to tests after he told me about his world view.”

“What do you mean, test?”

“He quizzed me! He had prepared written questions before his lecture.”

Vicki knows where Mark is, and so does her son who refused to give me a phone number for my daughger when he told me she had recently been over Vicki’s house for dinner, she and her boyfriend who got Heather pregnant – and refused to marry her. He never wanted a child. Mark and Vicki had removed a Father’s Guidence so they could get all the rosy art and the movie deal, have it allto themselves. These arenotartist, orpoets! This is payback for they being jealous of the beautiful artists for most of their life. We owed them. We had to pay for making their life difficult.

When I asked Mark why he didn’t contribute to Snyder’s biography, he said;

“I coudn’t think of anything nice to say about her!”

Mark and Vicki got to read all the drafts of the terrible biogrpahies that nose-dived Rosamond’s legacy into the ground. Why does Mark get to be around the art? He is not an artist!

“I hate art!” Victor growled as he talked about his daughter’s betrayals, they cutting him out of the Art World after getting his mother’s legacy. One of his young secretaries called my father “Vic – the Nazi” to his face. This may be the one who was found dead from an overdose of barbituates and alcohol after Vic took her out to celebrate her twenty first birthday. Her parents returned $5,000 dollars to the Nazi Godfather that they found in her safe deposit box. Vic hated to pay his taxes, too.

If they want to, the IRS can find Mark. I will help them as much as I can! I want to take away his Bag of Candy! Mark knew I was going to be grandfather, and didn’t tell me. What kind of brother is that?

Why did Bill kill himself?

In recalling that day Bill and I ran free, Rosemary said;

“I never saw anything more beautiful. These two beautiful boys. I wanted to run with them. Then, I saw one of them was you. I was so jealous.”

When I form new bonds with people, I tell them this so as to let down The Wall.

“It is very hard to be me. I am tur surivor of an incedbily beautiful freindship. My freind Bill was one of a kind. He was brilliant and gift beyond belief. At thirteen we sat atop a mountain and made an oath, being, that if one of dies, the surivor will do all he can to make sure his friend becomes famous. They hate us. The world hates artists. They will do all they can to destroy us.”

I am typing as fast as can, Bill. You will play a huge role in my Grail Legend.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2013

Bill Cornwell
I’m in bullhead city its hotter then africa I’m still recovering from vegas were bout to cross the colorado river to laughlin hit up a casino chill by the pool with some drinks and a beautiful girl. Its a rough life but somones gotta do it
June 14 at 12:42pm via Mobile Web •LikeUnlike •
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Jessica Young McCrary awww. how fun!!!

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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