I just woke up from my old man nap with the answer to the riddle I presented about the looting, and, the answer as to why Christine Rosamond Benton didn’t leave a more elaborate Will. She did leave that Will. What happened to it? My niece – the adult heir – was late to her mother’s funeral. Vicki told me she had trouble locating her because she was homeless. Shannon Rosamond told me she was not homeless, and Vicki called her at the number she always called her at! This reeks of conspiracy. Shamus Dundon was in on it. Was I invited to Christine’s sober birthday at Rocky Point – and Vicki said she could not find me? Was I in Christine’s Will? Did she name me Executor?
I will now be authoring a story about Garth Benton and his connection to my father, Victor Presco, and his private lender, Larry Chazen.
My grandfather lived on Eddy Street down the street a block from Big Bones gambling joint. There is a very good chance Hugo knew Remmer. Did my mother know Jack Ruby?
Above are photographs of my mother’s mother sitting next to Norbert Davis, and other Black Mask writers – that I am destined to raise from their graves? Am I the new King of the Hardboiled Detectives?
In the 1940s, Remmer expanded his operations into Northern California, running the 21 Club in El Cerrito, the Oaks Club in Emeryville, the 110 Eddy and the Menlo clubs in San Francisco. He had numerous fronts for his gambling operations. You couldn’t get a cigar at Remmer’s B&R Smokeshop at 50 Mason St., but you could always make a bet on the horses.
An oversized man with a personality to match, Bones became a well-known San Francisco character. Legendary gamblers like Nick the Greek and Ty Thompson — the inspiration for Damon Runyon’s Sky Masterson — played for high stakes at the Menlo Club. Jack Ruby, Lee Harvey Oswald’s assassin, also worked at the club in the 1940s along with his sisters Eva and Ruby, who were card dealers.
My grandfather worked for Max Silver at 186 Eddy Street. He lived at the infamous Thomas Hotel that caught fire and killed 20 people. At 891 Mission Street, elderly folks were jumping out windows on to piles of mattresses the fireman had made in order to save their lives. How many millions of us had visualized doing this – as kids? To do so as abandoned seniors your brats don’t care about, is the height of existentialism.
“To jump, or, not to jump? Is it better to be consumed in the fires of hell, or, survive to suffer the indignation of your daughter and son-in-law not coming to visit you in the hospital, which tells you they wanted you to perish so they can be free of you – alas!”
Victor Hugo Presco jumped from the Roof of Life, and made sure he landed at the Very Bottom of Life…
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