A week or two ago, I caught my childhood sweetheart, Marilyn Reed, lying to me. She said her back hurt, and this is why she stayed home. She later let it slip she was at the dedication of the Mims house where she ran into Kathy Vrzar.  Kathy is the Director of Inspirational Gospel Sounds Choir, and Marilyn is the President. Why didn’t Marilyn want me there? She knows I am a reporter for my newspaper Royal Rosamond Press. Didn’t she want me to take photographs of this civic event? If so, why?

I wondered if it had anything to do with the film Greg Black took of the event at the Hult Center, and was shooting at the Mims house opening. Eric Richardson spoke at the Hult, and at the dedication of the Mim’s house. He also spoke at the MRG event at the Campbell Senior Center. Marilyn told me the fundraiser for the choir will be held at the Mims house where the office of the NAACP is located. Eric is the President. Since the Hult, Marilyn has grown distant, cold, and critical of me. She said she and her sister were writing a biography, and she questioned me three times about copyrights. Four hours ago, I got a FB message from Kathy Vrzar. She said my blog on Krystal Albert was a selfish one.

“we DO NOT apprciate nor support you using us for your own personal agenda. Therefore, we ask the you cease and desist using our information and photos without our written permission.”

Greg Black is a radical film maker. He gets to film the choir, then, make radical films – that promote a black agenda-  only? Is he going to use any footage from the Hult to fulfill his personal agenda? He and Eric played in a Jazz band. Will Stone Cold Jazz be in Greg’s film, other then his performance on stage?

https://vimeo.com/168589317

Here is the full message 

Inspirational Sounds Do Not support your statements that has appeared in this article.
Our Mission Statement is as follows, and We as a Non Profit Organization stand by our Mission Statement 100%. We strive to bring about unity among various racial and ethnic constituents of our community through the performance of African – American Gospel Music, sharing a message of Faith, Hope, and Charity.We present Gospel Music as a fine arts project. Inspirational Sounds Gospel Choir bringing the good news of Love and Grace to the World.

We are a Community Choir of all religious backgrounds and ethnicity that comes together via Music Arts. We appreciate the work you have done for our choir thru photography and videos, but we DO NOT apprciate nor support you using us for your own personal agenda. Therefore, we ask the you cease and desist using our information and photos without our written permission. IT IS OUR RIGHT TO PROTECT OUR MEMBERS AND FRIENDS FROM BEING INVOLVED IN THIS KIND OF PUBLIC CONTROVERSY. THIS KIND OF THING GOES AGAINST OUR MISSION AND WE WILL PROTECT OUR MISSION STATEMENT BY WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY.”

I doubt these words were used in the bi-law. I will look because they recieved grants.

” We strive to bring about unity among various racial and ethnic constituents of our community through the performance of African – American Gospel Music,”

I doubt these words were used in the bi-law. I will look because they received grants.

” We strive to bring about unity among various racial and ethnic constituents of our community through the performance of African – American Gospel Music,”

Here is Mary White Ovington, a co-founder of the NAACP. She was inspired by William Morris and Jack London, who were socialists.  Both these men had connections to the to the Pre-Raphaelites, as did Joaquin Miller. I declared myself a New Pre-Raphaelite in 1969 in order to express my spiritual awaking and bond with Avatar, Meher Baba.  I told Eric Richardson about them, and suggested we have a public talk. I posted them on Marilyn and Kathy’s facebook, and talked to Jerry Vrzar about the Turners. When Marilyn told me about the Hult show, I asked her if I could get on stage and talk about the Turners and Forty-Eighters who were Socialists who fled Europe. None of these people were happy with me, because, it negates their theory, being, Black Slaves became free via singing gospel music – and dancing!

This is not true. The German Socialists joined the Union Army – and killed white folks in order to set slaves free.  What does the Socialist-based NAACP have to do with Gospel Music that has its roots in the Christian church? For Kathy and Marilyn to reject my input, and accept Eric’s input, and help in promoting the Inspirational Sounds Gospel Choir’s -NOW VAGUE AGENDA – is beyond being hypocritical, and beyond being reverse discrimination.  Black People, and their plight, is being EXPLOITED by a group of ambitious wanna-bes, who are violating my Rights, my Freedom of Religions\, and my Freedom of the Press. 

I will post every photograph i ever took, and every video i took, of this CULT! We are dealing with a cult that did try to isolate me, silence me, and sedregrate me from their closed circle of friends.

Jon Presco

Presdient: Royal Rosamond Press Co.

ttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_White_Ovington

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Association_for_the_Advancement_of_Colored_People

Departments within the NAACP govern areas of action. Local chapters are supported by the ‘Branch and Field Services’ department and the ‘Youth and College’ department. The ‘Legal’ department focuses on court cases of broad application to minorities, such as systematic discrimination in employment, government, or education. The Washington, D.C., bureau is responsible for lobbying the U.S. government, and the Education Department works to improve public education at the local, state and federal levels. The goal of the Health Division is to advance health care for minorities through public policy initiatives and education.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Morris

William Morris (24 March 1834 – 3 October 1896) was an English textile designer, poet, novelist, translator, and socialist activist. Associated with the British Arts and Crafts Movement, he was a major contributor to the revival of traditional British textile arts and methods of production. His literary contributions helped to establish the modern fantasy genre, while he played a significant role in propagating the early socialist movement in Britain

336 High Street is the oldest black-owned house that is still standing on its original site. 330 High Street and 336 High Street are the two Mims houses and are historical landmarks. The Mims houses “represent a snapshot of mid 20th century Oregon and its relationship with people of color,” according to the Eugene-Springfield NAACP branch.

Born in Walthamstow, Essex, to a wealthy middle-class family, Morris came under the strong influence of medievalismwhile studying Classics at Oxford University, there joining the Birmingham Set. After university he trained as an architect, married Jane Burden, and developed close friendships with the Pre-Raphaelite artists Edward Burne-Jones and Dante Gabriel Rossetti and with the Neo-Gothic architect Philip Webb. Webb and Morris designed a family home, Red House, then in Kent, where the latter lived from 1859 to 1865, before moving to Bloomsbury, central London. In 1861, Morris founded a decorative arts firm with Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Webb, and others: the Morris, Marshall, Faulkner & Co. Becoming highly fashionable and much in demand, the firm profoundly influenced interior decoration throughout theVictorian period, with Morris designing tapestries, wallpaper, fabrics, furniture, and stained glass windows. In 1875, Morris assumed total control of the company, which was renamed Morris & Co.

Mary White Ovington was born April 11, 1865, in Brooklyn, New York. Her grandmother attended the Connecticut congregation of Samuel Joseph May. Her parents, members of the Unitarian Church were supporters of women’s rightsand had been involved in anti-slavery movement. Educated at Packer Collegiate Institute and Radcliffe College, Ovington became involved in the campaign for civil rights in 1890 after hearing Frederick Douglass speak in a Brooklyn church.

In 1895 she helped found the Greenpoint Settlement in Brooklyn. Appointed head of the project the following year, Ovington remained until 1904 when she was appointed fellow of the Greenwich House Committee on Social Investigations. Over the next five years she studied employment and housing problems in black Manhattan. During her investigations she met W.E.B. Du Bois and was introduced to the founding members of the Niagara Movement.

Influenced by the ideas of William Morris, Ovington joined the Socialist Party of America in 1905, where she met people including A. Philip Randolph, Floyd Dell, Max Eastman and Jack London, who argued that racial problems were as much a matter of class as of race. She wrote for radical journals and newspapers such as The Masses, New York Evening Post and the New York Call. She also worked with Ray Stannard Baker and influenced the content of his book, Following the Color Line,published in 1908.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Association_for_the_Advancement_of_Colored_People

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) is an African-American civil rightsorganization in the United States, formed in 1909 by Moorfield Storey, Mary White Ovington and W. E. B. Du Bois.[3] Its mission is “to ensure the political, educational, social, and economic equality of rights of all persons and to eliminate racial hatred and racial discrimination”. The group enlarged its mission in the late 20th century by considering such as police misconduct, the status of black foreign refugees, and questions of economic development.[4] Its name, retained in accordance with tradition, uses the once common term colored people.

The NAACP bestows annual awards to African Americans in two categories: Image Awards are for achievement in the arts and entertainment, and Spingarn Medals are for outstanding achievement of any kind. Its headquarters is inBaltimore, Maryland.[5]

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) is an African-American civil rightsorganization in the United States, formed in 1909 by Moorfield Storey, Mary White Ovington and W. E. B. Du Bois.[3] Its mission is “to ensure the political, educational, social, and economic equality of rights of all persons and to eliminate racial hatred and racial discrimination”. The group enlarged its mission in the late 20th century by considering such as police misconduct, the status of black foreign refugees, and questions of economic development.[4] Its name, retained in accordance with tradition, uses the once common term colored people.

The NAACP bestows annual awards to African Americans in two categories: Image Awards are for achievement in the arts and entertainment, and Spingarn Medals are for outstanding achievement of any kind. Its headquarters is inBaltimore, Maryland.[5]

https://rosamondpress.com/2016/07/09/wide-awakes-and-the-turners-2/

https://rosamondpress.com/2014/06/07/joaquin-miller-william-morris-me/

Dinner at Rossetti’s
by Joaquin Miller
________________________________________
There is no thing that hath not worth;
There is no evil anywhere;
There is no ill on all this earth,
If man seeks not to see it there.
September 28. I cannot forget that dinner with Dante Gabriel Rossetti, just before leaving London, nor can I hope to recall its shining and enduring glory. I am a better, larger man, because of it. And how nearly our feet are set on the same way. It was as if we were all crossing the plains, and I for a day’s journey and a night’s encampment fell in with and conversed with the captains of the march.
But one may not gave names and dates and details over there as here. The home is entirely a castle. The secrets of the board and fireside are sacred. And then these honest toilers and worshippers of the beautiful are shy, so shy and modest. But I like this decent English way of keeping your name down and out of sight till the coffin-lid hides your blushes–so modest these Pre-Raphaelites are that I should be in disgrace forever if I dared set down any living man’s name.
But here are a few of the pearls picked up, as they were tossed about the table at intervals and sandwiched in between tales of love and lighter thoughts and things.
All London, or rather all the brain of London, the literary brain, was there. And the brain of all the world, I think, was in London. These giants of thought, champions of the beautiful earth, passed the secrets of all time and all lands before me like a mighty panorama. All night sol We dined so late that we missed breakfast. If I could remember and write down truly and exactly what these men said, I would have the best and the greatest book that ever was written, I have been trying a week in vain, I have written down and scratched out and revised till I have lost the soul of it, it seems to me; no individuality to it; only like my own stuff. If I only had set their words down on the next day instead of attempting to remember their thoughts! Alas! the sheaves have been tossed and beaten about over sea and land for days and days, till the golden grain is gone, and here is but the straw and chaff.
The master sat silent for the most part; there was a little man away down at the other end, conspicuously modest. There was a cynical fat man, and a lean philanthropist all sorts and sizes, but all lovers of the beautiful of earth. Here is what one, a painter, a ruddy-faced and a rollicking gentleman, remarked merrily to me as he poured out a glass of red wine at the beginning of the dinner:
“When travelling in the mountains of Italy, I observed that the pretty peasant women made the wine by putting grapes m a great tub, and then, getting into this tub, barefooted, on top of the grapes, treading them out with their brown, bare feet. At first I did not like to drink this wine. I did not think it was clean. But I afterward watched these pretty brown women” and here all leaned to listen, at the mention of pretty brown women– I watched these pretty brown women at their work in the primitive winepress, and I noticed that they always washed their feet after they got done treading out the wine.”
All laughed at this, and the red-faced painter was so delighted that he poured out and swallowed another full glass. The master sighed as he sat at the head of the table rolling a bit of bread between thumb and finger, and said, sitting close to me: “I am an Italian who has neven seen Italy. Belle Italia!…”
By and by he quietly said that silence was the noblest attitude in all things; that the greatest poets refused to write, and that all great artists in all lines were above the folly of expression. A voice from far down the table echoed this sentiment by saying:”Heard melodies are sweet; but unheard melodies are sweeter.” “Written poems are delicious; but unwritten poems are divine,” cried the triumphant cynic. “What is poetry?” cries a neighbor. “All true, pure life is poetry,” answers one. “But the inspiration of poetry?” “The art of poetry is in books. The inspiration of poetry in nature.” To this all agreed.
Then the master very quietly spoke: “And yet do not despise the books of man. All religions, said the Chinese philosophers, are good. The only difference is, some religions are better than others, and the apparent merit of each depends largely upon a mans capacity for understanding it. This is true of .poetry. All poetry is good. I never read a poem in my life that did not have some merit, and teach some sweet lesson. The fault in reading the poems of man, as well as reading the poetry of nature, lies largely at the door of the reader. Now, what do you call poetry?” and he turned his great Italian eyes tenderly to where I sat at his side.
To me a poem must be a picture,” I answered.
Proud I was when a great poet then said: “And it must be a picture–if a good poem so simple that you can understand it at a glance, eh? And see it and remember it as you would see and remember a sunset, eh?” “Aye,” answered the master, “I also demand that it shall be lofty in sentiment and sublime in expression. The only rule I have for measuring the merits of a written poem, is by the height of it. Why not be able to measure its altitude as you measure one of your sublime peaks of America?”
He looked at me as he spoke of America, and I was encouraged to answer:”Yes, I do not want to remember the words. But I do want it to remain with me a picture and become a part of my life. Take this one verse from Mr. Longfellow:
“And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.’”
“Good!” cried the fat cynic, who, I am sure, had never heard the couplet before, it was so sweet to him; “Good! There is a picture that will depart from no impressible clay. The silent night, the far sweet melody falling on the weary mind, the tawny picturesque Arabs stealing away m the darkness, the perfect peace, the stillness and the rest. It appeals to all the Ishmaelite in our natures, and all the time we see the tents gathered up and the silent children of the desert gliding away in the gloaming.”
A transplanted American, away down at the other end by a little man among bottles, said: “The poem of Evangeline is a succession of pictures. I never read Evangeline but once.” “It is a waste of time to look twice at a sunset,” said Rossetti, sotto voce, and the end man went on: “But i believe I can see every picture in that poem as distinctly as if I had been the unhappy Arcadian; for here the author has called in ail the elements that go to make up a perfect poem.”
“When the great epic of this new, solid Saxon tongue comes to be written,” said one who sat near and was dear to the master’s heart, “it will embrace all that this embraces: new and unnamed lands; ships on the sea; the still deep waters hidden away in a deep and voiceless continent; the fresh and fragrant wilderness; the curling smoke of the camp-fire; action, movement, journeys; the presence–the inspiring presence of woman; the ennobl- ing sentiment of love, devotion, and devotion to the death; faith, hope and charity,- and all in the open air.”
“Yes,” said the master thoughtfully, ‘no great poem has ever been or ever will be fitted in a parlor, or even fashioned from a city. There is not room for it there.”
“Hear! hear! you might as well try to grow a California pine in the shell of a peanut,” cried I. Some laughed, some applauded, all looked curiously at me. Of course, I did not say it that well, yet I did say it far better, I mean I did not use the words carefully, but I had the advantage of action and sympathy.
Then the master said, after a bit of reflection: “Homer’s Ulysses, out of which have grown books enough to cover the earth, owes its immortality to all this, and its out-door exercise. Yet it is a bloody book a bad book, in many respects–full of revenge, treachery, avarice and wrong. And old Ulysses himself seems to have been the most colossal liar on record. But for all this, the constant change of scene, the moving ships and the roar of waters, the rush of battle and the anger of the gods, the divine valor of the hero, and, above all, and over all, like a broad, white-bosomed moon through the broken clouds, the splendid life of that one woman; the shining faith, the constancy, the truth and purity of Penelope–all these make a series of pictures that pass before us like a panorama, and we will not leave off reading till we have seen them all happy together again, and been assured that the faith and constancy of that woman has had it reward. And we love him, even if he does lie!”
How all at that board leaned and listened. Yet let me again and again humbly confess to you that I do him such injustice to try thus to quote from memory. After a while he said: “Take the picture of the old, blind, slobber-mouthed dog, that has been driven forth by the wooers to die. For twenty years he has not heard the voice of his master. The master now comes, in the guise of a beggar. The dog knows his voice, struggles to rise from the ground, staggers toward him, licks his hand, falls, and dies at his feet.”
Such was the soul, heart, gentleness of this greatest man that I ever saw walking in the fields of art….
Miller earned an estimated $3,000 working as a Pony Express rider, and used the money to move to Oregon. With the help of his friend, Senator Joseph Lane, he became editor of the Democratic Register in Eugene,[7] a role he held from March 15 to September 20, 1862.[8] Though no copies survive, it was known as sympathetic to the Confederacy until it was forced to shut down.[9] That year, Miller married Theresa Dyer (alias Minnie Myrtle) on September 12, 1862, in her home four days after meeting her[10] in Port Orford, Oregon.

Swinburne Meets Joaquin Miller.” New York Times (10 May 1931) [Online: BR5]
Picture with the text: “Once Joaquin Miller and a British Writer Called on Swinburne, Whom the Englishman Claimed as an Intimate Friend. They Announced Themselves as Joaquin Miller, the American Poet, and a Friend. Swinburne Sent Down Word to ‘Bring the American Poet Up and Tell the Friend to Go to Hell.’” [MCK]

Algernon Charles Swinburne (London, April 5, 1837 – London, April 10, 1909) was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic. He invented the roundel form, wrote several novels, and contributed to the famous Eleventh Edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in every year from 1903 to 1907 and again in 1909.[1]
At Oxford Swinburne met several Pre-Raphaelites, including William Morris and Dante Gabriel Rossetti. After leaving college he lived in London and started an active writing career, where Rossetti was delighted with his ‘little Northumbrian friend’, a reference to Swinburne’s diminutive height—he was just over five feet tall.[citation needed]
The first of Rosamond’s five scenes is the most forceful in demonstrating Swinburne’s debt to troubadour conventions as well as to Pre-Raphaelite stylistic influences. Courtly love preoccupations and the medieval setting overshadow elements of Jacobean revenge tragedy throughout the play. Swinburne’s Rosamond, rather than the historical queen of the Courts of Love, espouses the religion of love and, as a result of her lived creed, is poisoned by Eleanor out of jealousy.

Swinburne’s choice of the “rose of the world” as one of his first subjects for verse suggests that he associated his conception of Rosamond with courtly love allegory, specifically the Roman de la Rose, in which the rose is the eternal symbol of the beloved and of the perfect beauty that is fearfully transient but simultaneously immortal.3 As in Swinburne’s later lyrics “Before the Mirror” and “The Year of the Rose,” Rosamond’s central symbol is the rose, and, like them, this play recapitulates the major preoccupations of courtly love poetry: the apotheosis of beauty; love as the necessary consequence of beauty fear of mutability; and a final insistence on the immortality of both love and beauty, which can be attained, paradoxically, only through death.