Who’s Down In Wanda’s Mystery Basement?

Jerry Rubin was a frequent guest, he checking into ‘Wanda’s Basement’ to play Networking with Bruce Perlowin, who was preparing to move Svetlana in when she got out of the Fed lock-up. Both hippie businessmen liked the ambience of the typical straight home. We called Wanda ‘Mrs. Cleaver’.

“Sometime in the mid-70s Rubin reinvented himself as a businessman. Friend and fellow Yippie Stew Albert claimed Rubin’s new ambition was giving capitalists a social consciousness. In 1980 he began a new career on Wall Street as stockbroker with the brokerage firm John Muir & Co. “I know that I can be more effective today wearing a suit and tie and working on Wall Street than I can be dancing outside the walls of power,”[1] he said. In the 1980s, he became known for his promotion of business networking, having created Business Networking Salons, Inc., a company that organized parties at the Studio 54 and Palladium nightclubs in Manhattan, where thousands of young professionals and entrepreneurs met and shared ideas. Near the end of his life, Rubin became interested in the science of life extension and was heavily involved in multi-level marketing of health foods and nutritional supplements.[42] His business activities included marketing of a nutritional drink named Wow! that contained bee pollen, ginseng and kelp.[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerry_Rubin

Rosamond Press

wandasbbruc0001“Will the mystery guest, please sign in.”

Due to the high unemployment rate amongst teenagers, many youngsters may not be able to flee from the cco-coo’s nest many American households have become. Take the Harkins household and Wanda Harkin’s three sons. I don’t think there was one day Wanda lived in her home, alone. There was at least one of her sons sharing the Pinehaven asylum with her. There was a tag-team residency. Sometimes all three sons were living there at the same time. There were dangerous combos. James and Jeffrey could not be in the house at the same time without trouble breaking out. There was a gun.

At times, one would be safer lying on the streets in Oakland’s cracktown. Forinstance, one afternoon James marched upstairs from the basement in his bathrobe, swearing. He had his gun. He had been woken early, he not rising from the Mystery…

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About Royal Rosamond Press

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