“I’m just western – I suppose!”

Montana lawmaker Zooey Zephyr barred by GOP from House floor - WISH-TV ...
Zooey Zephyr: The Montana Legislature Drama Continues After Protests ...

It’d 5:42 A.M.in the morning. I awoke – deeply depressed – wondering if I am done as a writer. There is so much negativity. I keep seeing this ugly picture of the Montana riot squad clearing the balcony. Then, I hear the testimony of a woman who claims she was raped by the ex-president of the United States.

I almost gave up, trying to save Rena and I – our story. Then I find a lost poem by my grandfather, Roy Reuben Rosamond. I just wrote it down in my note book and will post it later. This poem reminds me that heterosexual love – is not easy! Not as easy as heterosexual sex? Do we all want to be in love – before we die? What exactly is The Cowboys Lament – they don’t see enough soaring eagles when they ride the range – mending fences? Where have all the eagles gone? Here’s one I just found in Roy’s story ‘A Voice Of The Mountains’…

“An eagle that nested in the cliffs above above Calvin’s ranch, soared above them gracefully!”

BINGO! There it is! The CRUX of the culture war – that is tearing this country apart. I call BULLSHIT! How many Montanians own a ranch – with eagle in the cliff? How many conservative folks who are giving Zooey a hard time – have ever written a poem to the beautiful one – they love? There aught to be a test for those who claim Montana in the name of Cowboys who – herd cattle! How many are there – ten thousand five hundred and thirty three? I have to wonder if Royal took literary liberties when he wrote this. He’s not selling his Ozarkian books and has got a beautiful wife and four daughters to feed. How many Montaneians – can say this?

“Herded cattle in the western part of Kansas to get the money to come on.”

In her long letter Rena declines to be my “live-in muse” but bids me to put her in my “muse hall of fame” which I have done – BIG TIME! Rena Easton is to me, what Mary Magdalene Rosamond was to Royal – a reason for living and writing! That said, alas – our story begins…..

Capturing The Beautiful Eagle On The Cliff

John Presco

President: Royal Rosamond Press


All Winter Long by Rena Easton

Posted on January 21, 2014 by Royal Rosamond Press


Marilyn Reed called me about 5:00 P.M. and told me this was the last Jazz & Poetry Night at the Granary. After three years, it was time for the Muse of Poetry and Jazz, to seek another abode. Many hearts did she warm. Many bright words came from starry beings.

I had little time to prepare. I wanted to bring my blow-up of Rena’s photo that she gave me in 1970 when she was 18. I had brought my muse here before in order to read my poem I wrote about her. Now that we were exchanging words, I wanted to read her poem while the audience beheld her beauty.

While reading ‘All Winter Long’ I wished there was a young woman who would read Rena’s poem. All of a sudden, Marilyn’s daughter walked in and sat next to me. I have known Nisha since 1987 when she was four years old. She was my surrogate daughter before my daughter came into my life. Marilyn was my first girlfriend. She has memories of all members of my family, and I hold memories of her family.

Marilyn read a poem, and then sang the words while her husband’s Jazz band backed her up. Nisha missed this. She had never read a poem in public. She played Cello at the Universtity of Oregon and performs Asian Music all over town.

After reading Rena’s poem, twice, her step-father called us up to read. After reading it once, Nisha started to read it again, but then, she began to sing. She never sings, least on stage. Her voice became an instrument. It was spell binding because Nisha’s muse took hold of her, and, Rena at eighteen years old, came into the room. There was magic and light in the room. I now own the end of my autobiography. I am with those who love the Muse.

There is nothing more I expect of Rena Victoria Easton. We have been embraced. We are made complete with the sharing of our love, our soul, and our story. This video is a true miracle.

In her letter Rena says “I have a million poems memorized.” that she recites while she works. So, for now the Muse will be broadcasting sonnets from KMUS Bozeman Montana while accompanied by – vacuum cleaner?

Jon Presco


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Royal’s Montana Stories

Posted on July 7, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press

My grandfather lived in Montana.


In Rosamond There Is No East or West | Rosamond Press

Rob Quist of Montana | Rosamond Press

The Rhyming Miner

A Voice of the Mountain

The Voice of the Mountain

Posted on June 5, 2015 by Royal Rosamond Press


This morning I went in search of Roy Reuben Rosamond’s story about Calvin and Nell that takes place in Montana. I am blown away.

“The sun climbed toward the zenith, up over the colossal Beartooth Mountain!”

It is high noon in Bozeman. Andre Artaud and Vincent Van Gough have gotten off the train so they can be witness to the Greatest Artistic Destiny in Creative History. The Ghosts of Creations Past all want to meet her, they summoned by the spirit of my grandfather – I never lay eyes on – to come behold her, Rena Destina, the cowgirl of our dreams. Destiny rides again!

It appears Rena was married to Rob Burda an architect for Beartooth builders! WHAT!!!! Rob built the house where in back is parked the White Ford Pickup, the Ghost Truck of Dreams Past. In Roy’s story ‘The Voice of the Mountain’ he talks about newly built Pasadena cottages as being the place they are destined to live in if they are forced to come down from the mountains by Nell’s father. Calvin grabs Nell’s arm in a tug-of-war, like I grabbed Rena’s arm a hundred miles West of Winnamucca. We had a little fist-fight in my 1950 Dodge Coronet. She was angry at me because I turned my back on her while we were in bed.

“I don’t want to play anymore!” is what I told her after her boyfriend came from Nebraska to take her back home. They talked in the living room of the Harkins home on Willis Court. I fell asleep, expecting when I awoke, she would be gone, the girl of my dreams. All of a sudden, I am awake. Rena has made a tent over us with just the sheet.  With her elfin, cattish face, there is a strange fire in her eyes, as she chatters these word with a hiss;

“I hate him. I hate him!”

Rena, you scared the shit out of me! There! The truth is out! But, now I see, you took us back to Renamont and our beloved tent. For, this was YOUR FIRST HOME! Outside our home, was a real campfire. I loved you so much, and always will.

“Nell stood breathless because of a painful grasp from her lovers hands, a signification of his will unconsciously explained to her.”


It gets even more strange. Above are photos of Beartooth in alpenglow! It looks just like the mountains in Swiss Alps, and, Clarence King Mountain.

Rena I am going to do two paintings of you, one destined for the Gene Autry Museum. The other will be you as a Pre-Raphaelite Goddess.

And now my epic tale can begin. It will be a continuation of Royal’s story…….

‘The Voice of the Mountain – Rena Destina and the Second Coming of Wolfdietrich’

I am come to rescue you once more, Rena Destina. We will live in that home built to hold our dreams. We will wed at the foot of Beartooth mountain. It is – our destiny!


My Disciple’s Beautiful Back

Posted on February 25, 2017 by Royal Rosamond Press


When Brian shut Rena and I out, I reminded him I had just given up my apartment for his good friend. So, he grabs his tent, and throws it down on the ground, locks the door, and leaves. I set the tent of in the backyard, and that night Rena and I get in it. It is summer. We start taking off our clothes, so alas we can have sexual intercourse. Then I see her bare back with the flow of her auburn hair cascading down it.

“My God, Rena! You have the most beautiful back. Let’s leave our underwear on. I don’t think doing it in a backyard is right. Here, lie down and let me rub your back.”

For an hour we were both in heaven as my hand explored, my nails, tickled, and the palm of my hand lie on her abdomen. I worshipped a Goddess, and I filled her with color energy.  Then, I pulled our blankets halfway outside our tent, and we looked up at the stars. My message was one of cosmic union and love. Rena fell asleep on my arm and shoulder.

I had a poetic voice. Rena had forgotten that. Then she listened to my ‘Birth of Venus’. She became alarmed, because, she came to own that voice. She never considered the source after she left for home.

Jon Presco

When Rena and I first kissed on my friend’s floor, a cosmic event occurred. We both found The Other. Cosmic Sparks, flew. The energy we created altered – much! How much?

Let us return to the place of The Kiss. It happened on Congress Avenue in Oakland California after my friend kidnapped Rena, drove down Pismo Beach with her until she demanded he return for me, he having left me standing there, watching him go crazy. He had to have her, just as Paris had to have Hellen.

So jealous was Brian of me, of us, that he locked us out of his apartment and went to stay at his mothers. Rena and I were now homeless. Brian gave us his tent and sleeping bag so we could sleep in the backyard. I went to Map Quest to look at that house again where I once lived. I had just given up my apartment there for a married couple and newborn child. I had gone to LA and considered moving there. I met Rena at the Venice Pier. I have never seen such a beautiful woman hence. Her animal magnetism was off the chart. She was a creature from another planet. The cosmic image above was posted on Facebook by my friend Persephone Rose who post a beautiful woman on her wall everyday. She thinks Rena is my Twin Soul. I concur, for we are both very isolated at this moment, if not most of our life.

Jon ‘The Nazarite’

Congress of Love

Posted on February 3, 2015by Royal Rosamond Press


Whatever wonderful genetics Rena’s parents carried before they made love and born four beautiful daughters,  was from a superior gene pool. Combined, the results were overwhelming, overpowering. When Rena came at me from the dark doorway and stood feet from me, I had to look away so I could catch my breath. When I looked at this creature, I was a disbeliever. They don’t make human being this beautiful. Then, it spoke;

“Can I walk with you?”

When I saw the movie ‘Species’ I laughed aloud at the urgency of the alien to mate with an earth man and was being very direct. Rena could have been asking me a carnal question. This just doesn’t happen in real life. Why me? Is it because I carry the genetics of Royal Rosamond who gave birth to four beautiful daughters? Did Rena read my genetic material, somehow, and I was fit to be her Knight in Shining Armor?

I found, her. She was lost and forsaken. Rena is a Foundling. For reasons she did not divulge she was sent to live with her grandmother when she was seven. In a letter she sent me a year ago she says she was sexually abused by her father. She did not grow up with her three sisters who became models. She did not get along with, them, her family, that she felt she was not a part of. And now, he boyfriend has disappeared leaving her alone, and without a place to lay her head. Alas, Rena has made manifest her core identity, the way she truly feels most of her waking hours. For seven hours or more she has had time to study her situation, take it all in, her hidden feelings that are concealed no more. This is one of the best things that ever happened to her, for she alone can hone her survival skills, and come up with ‘The Solution’. I was that solution, she chose. She chose me, like a preditor, a Cheetah that has run down a gazelle.

“Sure. I was expecting you!” is the answer I managed to eek out, for I was rendered speechless.

“What do you mean by that?” Rena asked, she moving a step ahead of me in order to head my answer off, get a better look into my eye for the glint of a a hidden agenda.

When we woke that first morning she was very relaxed with me, for I told her the truth;

“I am a harmless romantic. Don’t be afraid.”

We spent two nights in that backyard. Men who met me, now rushed into the backyard to behold her. They didn’t bother to say hello to me, the dude they didn’t know that well, and, didn’t want to know – at all! I was disgusted! They were like dogs around a bitch in heat.

Then, there was Rena’s walk, her gate. We walked through a tough Oakland neighborhood she oblivious and impervious to any danger, or anyone. I was awestruck at how she was taken in. Rena got respect. It was like I had a man-eating beast, on a leash! We walked to a store located on 35th. Avenue in Oakland. When people saw Rena coming their way, they were spellbound. She exuded animal magnetism. She was a Sexy Beast. She put on a show for real cowboys back in Nebraska. Se made grown married men, whimper.

Rena was the most perfectly proportioned woman I have ever beheld, and she was tall, about 5/11. From afar you knew you were going to be treated to a show. She had a walk – the walk! It was like a great cat. Then there was the look in her eyes. This was a powerful human being. I loved to study people’s reaction to her. There were some cool Latinos and Blacks in this hood. Coming from Grand Island Nebraska, this seventeen year old had no idea how cool she was, how she complimented every scene, every stage she walked onto. Everyone parted the way, and got a good look she seemed oblivious to. Irene had animal magnetism – in spades! She was a very rare Royal Flush!

About to go into the store, suddenly Rena backed up. She spotted a magazine in the window depicting a blonde in a bathing suit.

“I think that is my sister. She said. “She was going to be one the cover of a magazine.”

We went inside to get a closer look.

“No. It’s not my sister.”

Now, I am four generation Oakland, and I never dreamed I would hear such words. LIFE magazine had done a pictorial on ‘California Girl’s’ obviously shot on the beach in Southern California. This blonde is emerging from the sea, dripping wet, splashing in the foam. She is a beautiful Nereid. I just found the photos for this article. I suspect Rena’s sister is amongst the group of waders, or, perhaps she is the woman lying on her side with her back to us.

This article precedes the Sports illustrated pictorial. I am sure there was a contest to see who gets on the cover, and Rena’s sisters, lost. This meant, LIFE magazine hired at least one professional model. However, when I first walked on Santa Monica beach at sixteen years of age, I saw model material everywhere.

Marilyn, my first girlfriends, modeled for Sea and Ski when she was thirteen, which happens to be the age of consent in Nebraska. I assume this was because young women were scarce in the barren planes, and young men were want to start family early so as to have sons to work the fields. Rena, and her three beautiful sisters, wanted none of that, and fled. That is Marilyn, the blonde in the black and white photo. The famous fashion photographer did a shoot of Marilyn on the beach siting on a rock like a Mermaid.

I am going to assume Rena’s boyfriend heard about the sister modeling in California, and drove Rena out west to see if she could be discovered and end up in a magazine, or, on the silver screen?

My friend was a good friend of the Stackpole family who lived in the Oakland hills. After the Oakland fire we went and looked at the ruins of the Stackpole home. What a loss. Thousands of negatives were consumed in the inferno. Peter Stackpole shot Hollywood stars for LIFE and was assigned to Liz Taylor. Peter went on a cruise with Errol Flynn who dated two of the four Rosamond sisters who were raised in Ventura by the Sea. Rosemary and Lillian argued forever about whom the Swashbuckler was attracted to the most.

My grandfather, Roy Reuben Rosamond, wrote for Out West and Liberty magazine. I believe he and I were the embodiment of the minor god, Nerites, who was the brother of the Nereids, the only male sibling. Consider the fifty images of the Rosamond Women captured in the gallery in Carmel, a city co-founded by Robert Louis Stevens.

I just noted that the name Irene (Rena’s birth name) is found in Nereid.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2012


In Greek mythology, Nerites was a minor sea deity, son of Nereus and Doris (apparently their only male offspring) and brother of the fifty Nereides. He is described as a young boy of stunning beauty.
According to Aelian,[1] Nerites was never mentioned by epic poets such as Homer and Hesiod, but was a common figure in the mariners’ folklore. Aelian also cites two versions of the myth concerning Nerites, which are as follows.
In one of the versions, Aphrodite, even before her ascension from the sea to Olympus, fell in love with Nerites. When the time had come for her to join the Olympian gods, she wanted Nerites to go with her, but he refused, preferring to stay with his family in the sea. Even the fact that Aphrodite promised him a pair of wings did not make him change his mind. The scorned goddess then transformed him into a shellfish and gave the wings to her son Eros.
In the other version, Nerites was loved by Poseidon and answered his feelings. From their mutual love arose Anteros (personification of reciprocated love). Poseidon also made Nerites his charioteer; the boy drove the chariot astonishingly fast, to the admiration of various sea creatures. But Helios, for reasons unknown to Aelian’s sources, changed Nerites into a shellfish. Aelian himself supposes that Helios might have wanted the boy for himself and was offended by his refusal.

*     *    *

Once upon a time, there was a young cowboy riding along the trail to Beartooth Mountain. He was thinking about his cowgirl he just lost. He was figuring he got it all wrong. They were not destined to for one another.  Perhaps it was Lilly Mae he was supposed to marry!

Suddenly, a rattlesnake lashed out at his horses legs, and Lil Nell jumped back out of the reach of its poisonous fangs. Cal knew Nell was backing them over a cliff. If he pulled hard on the reins that would send them over. So he leaned forward, and whispered in Nell’s ear.

“I love you Nell!”

Nell sensed her danger, and they both looked back, down on the river flowing far below. Feeling Nell’s front legs grab the earth, was like being reborn. When her back hooves got a good hold of the trail, Cal heard a strange clanking and jingling. He looked at his hands grasping the reigns, and they were covered in metal. Then, he beheld a sharp metal horn on Nell’s brow. She looked like a Unicorn. Wondering if he was in shock, and seeing things, now he was hearing, things. It was a voice coming down the mountain.

Born during a shower of stars

a great dragon appear in the sky

to devour thee.

But, this was not your destiny

Raised by wolves

my beloved grandson

deep in the woods

where only I could find you

You were born to save a fair maiden

restore a lost kingdom

and own the cloak of invisibility

after you do battle with

the Dwarf King Lauren

in his rose garden

When Cal noticed there was a sword on his waste, with what looked like a very expensive gem on its hilt, his first thought was to ride hard to town and sell it at the pawn shop so he could afford to by that old Winnabega. Then. would she marry him, now that he was not living in a tent out on the range?

Then, a bank of clouds rolled in on the drum roll of thunder. He and Nell took cover under a overhang, and in half an hour there was a break in the dark clouds. The sun was setting. Cal felt a chill come over his whole being as he beheld Beartooth bathed in a bright reddish light. Then he whispered;

“Alpenglow!” Then, he wondered what this word meant. Cal looked down to see he was covered in a body of armor so shiny, he could see his………….mountain in it. He had brought her here, and read his grandfather’s poem to her. She thought it was stupid when he could not tell her – her name.

The tide was low today, my love
A cadence of the sea was wrought
In melancholy strain, and low and fraught
With whisperings of your name above
The deep sea song!
A shell that lured along the shore
Whispered; “I love you evermore!”
I wrote your name upon the sands –
Would that I traced with gentle hands –
The minor chords were wont to spell
Each syllable!
The tide is high tonight, my dear.
The rock-bound shore loves the wave
But sends it dying to its grave.
The low base notes vie with the fear
The wind send on
The all-encircling gloom
Descended o’er old ocean’s tomb!
Your name is gone tonight, my love:
The angry surge rushed in above.
It cries aloud, with sea gull’s shrill
“I love you still!”



The South Tyrol saga of King Laurin (German: König Laurin, Ladin: Re Laurin, Italian: Re Laurino) is part of a popular tradition in the Dolomites. It is a popular explanation of the optical phenomenon of Alpenglow (Ladin: Enrosadira), by which the summit of the mountains change their color to shades of red and purple during and after sunset. King Laurin’s legend is also considered to be the source of the German name of the Rosengarten group (Italian: Catinaccio) between South Tyrol and the Trentino.




Dale Evans Frances Octavia Smith


The visitation I speak of began when I began my portrait of Rena, my Muse, and Christine’s! Muses are Spirit Guides who visit this one and then that one. I thought Rena knew what a Muse was. Is her muse a lover of horror movies? I think WE have a Muse and she drives an old white Ford truck. She wants a Happy Ending!

Rena,  you inspire me – no matter what! Can we start from the top. I want to do paintings from your photographs – the Rena Collection. We can sign a contract. We can do talks shows. Contact me!

“Since your visitations ended, I began to design a house for you to dwell in. It’s a hobby of mine to turn on the T.V. And work on floor plans. You have been placed in a home with only 670 square feet, to a castle with 6,000″

Paradise Valley Gem: Architect designed custom house built by Beartooth Builders, with extraordinary finishes and quality. Beautiful views, land has water rights, McDonald Creek flows through the property. House on 16+ acres, Parcel B, can be sold for $1.5 million. Property borders a large ranch, close to Chico Hot Springs and Pine Creek. A very special property. Parcel A with over 16 acres has a caretaker’s cabin and historic ranch outbuildings. This 33 acre property has amazing views of the Absaroka Beartooth Wilderness and the Absaroka Mountains. Close to National Forest trailheads for hiking and horseback riding and close to Yellowstone National Park, the property offers a wide variety of recreational opportunities. The house, designed by Rob Burda and built by Beartooth Builders in 2009 has 4164 square feet with 4 bedrooms and 4.5 bathrooms. The exterior has been artfully landscaped and a stream flows in front of the entrance to the house. Large rocks form seating areas to enjoy the views of the surrounding valley.



Welcome to Beartooth Builders …

Over 30 years ago, in the shadows of the Beartooth mountains, Beartooth Builders was founded on superior craftsmanship which is readily apparent and has been featured in the pages of Log Home Living Magazine, Log Homes Illustrated, the book Cabin Fever, and numerous other publications.  However, the true benchmark of Beartooth Builders success can be found in the testimonials of our satisfied customers. Please browse our website to learn more about how Beartooth Builders can assist you in your residential or commercial contracting needs.

Doug Mackaman has developed Beartooth Builders on a foundation of excellence in workmanship and unsurpassed customer service.  Each home created reflects the unique personality and desires of the homeowner.  Dougs willingness to adhere to the goals of the homeowner and insistence on excellence assure that building a home need not be a stressful experience.  We have a long list of satisfied customers who have been very pleased with Beartooth Builders quality craftsmanship and our devoted customer service.

 With the addition of Rob Burda to the staff in 2001, we began our journey into design.  Rob is an honored graduate of Montana State University School Of Architecture and recent recipient of a Masters Of Architecture from MSU.  Our design department has grown and evolved over the years and we are increasingly excited about the projects we are designing and building.  Whether you bring your own plan or work with us on your design, we are here to make your dreams come true



n. pl. des·ti·nies

1. The inevitable or necessary fate to which a particular person or thing is destined; one’s lot.

2. A predetermined course of events considered as something beyond human power or control: “Marriage and hanging go by destiny” (Robert Burton).

3. The power or agency thought to predetermine events: Destiny brought them together.

  1. (Classical Myth & Legend) the power that predetermines events, personified as a goddess

Rena Destina

All day yesterday I composed the description of the entity that dwelt in Rena when I knew her. I saw this other person on several occasions and was rendered speechless – helpless! This beautiful creature was awe-inspiring. Then, she let your see her, the Real Rena. There are your normal perceptions of the world, and then there is Rena World. If she likes you, trusts you – loves you – then you get to see her. I found her the day after we met, when we stopped on the beach at Santa Barbara. I caught her he with her back to the ocean, behind a small sand dune.  I sat bowlegged, facing her. She was being aloof.

“You’re afraid of the ocean, aren’t you?”

Rena lowered the book she was reading and studied me.

“How did you know?” She asked, impressed with my detective abilities.

“It’s a beautiful and sunny afternoon, and you have your back to the sea reading a book. Do you see anyone else doing this? What are you reading?”

“Jane Eyre.”

Many times I have watched the scene from the movie ‘Laura’ where Gene Tierney dozes and drops the book she is reading. Rena had Gene’s beauty, her presence, and then some. Famous directors looked carefully for what Rena and Gene had. Just to watch their expressions, their vivid messages in the minute changes they undertake, their little looks and glances – is heavenly!  I was curious. Did they practice? I asked Rena what it was like to behold herself in a mirror. You should have seen the look she gave me!

Buffalo Bill started working at the age of eleven after his father’s death, and became a rider for the Pony Express at age 14. During the American Civil War, he served for the Union from 1863 to the end of the war in 1865. Later he served as a civilian scout to the US Army during the Indian Wars, receiving the Medal of Honor in 1872.

One of the most colorful figures of the American Old West, Buffalo Bill started performing in shows that displayed cowboy themes and episodes from the frontier and Indian Wars. He founded his Buffalo Bill’s Wild West in 1883, taking his large company on tours throughout the United States and, beginning in 1887, in Great Britain and Europe.

In 1932, Autry married Ina May Spivey, the niece of Jimmy Long. After she died in 1980, he married Jacqueline Ellam, who had been his banker, in 1981. He had no children by either marriage.

Autry, was raised into Freemasonry in 1927 at Catoosa Lodge No. 185, Catoosa Oklahoma. He later became a 33rd degree Master Mason, as recorded on his headstone.[26]



The very first hit movie shot in Hollywood was a western (“The Squaw Man“), and over the years the good old cowboy movie has played a big role the history of Tinseltown. Generations of kids thrilled to the adventures of Roy RogersTom Mixthe Lone Ranger, and the original singing cowboy, Gene Autry. Well, now Los Angeles has its own Gene Autry Western Heritage Museum, where those cowboy movie stars of yesteryear finally get the recognition and appreciation they rightly deserve.Don’t imagine for a moment that this is some small, second-rate undertaking. This is a grand museum, both in size and scope. Walt Disney Imagineering designed the museum’s six permanent exhibition areas, and their professionalism shows. Prepare to be surprised by the museum’s size and sophistication.

Orvon Grover Autry[1] (September 29, 1907 – October 2, 1998), better known as Gene Autry, was an American performer who gained fame as a singing cowboy on the radio, in movies, and on television for more than three decades beginning in the early 1930s. Autry was also owner of a television station, several radio stations in Southern California, and the Los Angeles/California/Anaheim Angels Major League Baseball team from 1961 to 1997.

From 1934 to 1953, Autry appeared in 93 films and 91 episodes of The Gene Autry Show television series. During the 1930s and 1940s, he personified the straight-shooting hero—honest, brave, and true—and profoundly touched the lives of millions of Americans.[2] Autry was also one of the most important figures in the history of country music, considered the second major influential artist of the genre’s development after Jimmie Rodgers.[2] His singing cowboy movies were the first vehicle to carry country music to a national audience.[2] In addition to his signature song, “Back in the Saddle Again“, Autry is still remembered for his Christmas holiday songs, “Here Comes Santa Claus“, which he wrote, “Frosty the Snowman“, and his biggest hit, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer“.

Autry is a member of both the Country Music Hall of Fame and Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame, and is the only person to be awarded stars in all five categories on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, for film, television, music, radio, and live performance.[3] The town of Gene Autry, Oklahoma was named in his honor.[4]

Autry purchased the 110 acre Monogram Movie Ranch in 1953, located in Placerita Canyon near Newhall, California in the northern San Gabriel Mountains foothills. He renamed it the Melody Ranch after his movie Melody Ranch.[15] Autry then sold 98 acres of the property, most of the original ranch. The Western town, adobes, and ranch cabin sets and open land for location shooting were retained as a movie ranch on 12 acres. A decade after he purchased Melody Ranch, a brushfire swept through in August 1962, destroying most of the original standing sets. However, the devastated landscape did prove useful for productions such as Combat!. A complete adobe ranch survived at the northeast section of the ranch.[16][17]

The Museum of the American West in Los Angeles’ Griffith Park was founded in 1988 as the Gene Autry Western Heritage Museum, featuring much of his collection of Western art and memorabilia. It is now called The Autry National Center and is divided into two locations, eight miles apart from each other. Its mission is to present the unique and diverse perspectives of the American West, including the romanticized West in pop culture and the “real” nuanced history, including native and minority voices.

The Autry National Center is a museum in Los Angeles, California, dedicated to exploring an inclusive history of the American West. Founded in 1988, the museum presents a wide range of exhibitions and public programs, including lectures, film, theater, festivals, family events, and music, and performs scholarship, research, and educational outreach. It has two sites and attracts about 150,000 visitors annually.[1]

In 2013, it extensively redesigned and renovated the Irene Helen Jones Parks Gallery of Art and the Gamble Firearms Gallery in its main building, known as the Autry National Center. In its related opening exhibit for the Parks Gallery, Art of the West, the new organization enabled material to be presented in relation to themes rather than chronology, and paintings were shown next to crafts, photography, video and other elements in new relationships.[1]

The Autry was established in 1988 by actor and businessman Gene Autry (as “Gene Autry Western Heritage Museum”) to explore and share the comprehensive story of the American West and its multiple cultures, and interpret its significance. Its Griffith Park collection includes 21,000 paintings, sculptures, costumes, textiles, firearms, tools, toys, musical instruments, and other objects. The museum presents contemporary and historical exhibitions, year-round programs for children, intellectual forums, and the Native Voices at the Autry performing arts series. The museum is located in Griffith Park across from the Los Angeles Zoo.

The 4,000-square foot Parks Gallery was renovated in 2013 and has been organized into three theme areas: Religion and Ritual, Land and Landscape, Migration and Movement, and also contains two mini galleries with revolving exhibits. This enables flexible curating of the museum’s extensive materials: paintings can be placed near textiles, photographs, pottery and videos. The spaces can also be used for more flexible programming.[1]

The Gamble Firearms Gallery also was renovated in 2013. It now shows more of the context and place of firearms in the Old West; curators grouped firearms by themes: “hunting and trapping, the impact of technology on firearms, the conservation movement and the West in popular culture.”[1] This is part of the Western Frontiers: Stories of Fact and Fiction Gallery.[1]

  • The Autry’s Southwest Museum of the American Indian Collection of Native American art is one of the most significant of its kind in the United States, second only to the Smithsonian Institution National Museum of the American Indian. The 238,000-piece collection includes 14,000 baskets, 10,000 ceramic items, 6,300 textiles and weavings, and more than 1,100 pieces of jewelry. It represents work by indigenous peoples from Alaska to South America, with an emphasis on cultures of California and the Southwestern United States.
  • The Autry Institute includes the collections of the Braun Research Library and the Autry Library. It is a research and publishing enterprise that produces and supports scholarly work in Western history and the arts. In 2002, the Women of the West Museum of Colorado merged with the Institute. This has broadened the scholarly and educational emphasis to include gender issues and women’s experiences in the American West. In addition, the International Gay Rodeo Association’s (IGRA) archives are now held by the Autry Library.



The Ark upon the mountain
The Dove and Branch upon the sea
The hammers of iniquity
beat upon my forgotten tomb
I am awake upon the turbulant waters

My enemies cast lots
and blame me for their sins
while God’s friends
read me on the Day of Atonement
so all will be saved
so all will be united in peace

The sun went down on me
so long ago
The vine that grew over my head
has wilted in the desert of forgetfulness
But, there on a mountian
a purple haze
a rosy afterglow
in a King’s rosegarden atop a mount
that bid noble knights to climb hither
that beckon knights to sever a thread
and once again
be brave


Summoning The Muse of Sir Sterling London Joaquin Lord de Rosemond

Posted on January 21, 2014 by Royal Rosamond Press


During the Summer of Love, and the renewal of Bohemian activity in the Bat Area on a grand scale, only I seemed to be aware of Sterling, London, and Joaquin ‘The Trail Blazers’ who had gone before us into the wilderness, and carved out Bohemian Sanctuaries, groves, wherein we worshipped the Queen of Druids – our Grand Bohemian Muse!

“Hail Brother Bohemians – Lovers of the Grand Beloved Muse!”

With the return of the Muse that Bill and I followed, and who rendered my late sister a world famous artist, can the re-capture of the Creative Spirit that has fallen into hands of the Un-Creative of the World – commence!

In discovering that my great grandfather, Carl Janke, was the first to build a Bohemian Community and Retreat in Belmont California – that he co-founded – put my family history next door to the Bohemian Grove in Monte Rio.

Five years ago after learning Rena Easton was married to a Commodore, and lived in the Isle of Wight, I had fantasies of what happened after we met. After my friend Bryan drops us off in Oakland – after he tried to kidnap Rena on Pismo Beach – I drive her down to the Oakland Estuary where my seventy foot yacht is moored. WE are now all alone down in the industrial train yards. There is not a soul around. I take her hand and guide her aboard. We go down below where I perform a superb removal of her apprehension. Why shouldn’t she be leery of this dark sailor man, this Hermit of the Sea.

Above is a photo of my small sailboat that I lived on. I was a tad ashamed to show it, until Rena told me in her letter about her small dwelling.

When Rosemary was showing us the family photos, her children perked up when we beheld these antique people having a picnic in the Oakland Redwoods where we used to have picnics.

“Who are these people, mother?”
“Those are your father’s people, the Bohunks.”
“Bohunks!” We exclaimed. “What’s a Bohunk?”
“Bohunks are Bohemians.” our mother answered with some concern.

What harm could it do these innocent children to know they have Bohunk blood in their veins? As long as they never learn my father was a Hillbilly, smitten by a Redneck Muse that he named ‘Ravola of Thunder Mountain’.

I am a very Lucky Man!

Jon Presco

Copyright 2014





There were old growth redwood trees near Belmont and Redwood city that were harvested. Carl Janke built his theme park on Belmont Creek a watershed that came down from the hills. This was an ideal habitation for giant redwoods that could be seen by sailors on the bay. It must have been an incredible and beautiful sight that would have appealed to a German who traitinally love the forests.

“In the hundred years since the Huddart Park area was logged, a new forest of redwoods and other trees have grown, covering much of the evidence of this early logging activity. However, still visible are large stumps of the virgin redwoods and “skid roads” over with the teams of oxen dragged logs to the sawmills.

If Janke brought his six portable houses around the Cape on a Clipper in 1848, instead of 1849 as some say, then Carl did not do so to sell them to gold miners who struck it rich, but to create a utopian city and haven for people all over the world who would come to behold these giant redwoods. Were the founders of Bohemian Grove inspired by Janke’s Turnverien free-thinker dream? Jack London, George Sterling, and Joaquin Miller, were members of the Bohemian Grove. Miller knew the Stuttmeisters who had a farm down the hill from ‘The Heights’ where artists and poets met. Miller wrote ‘City Beautiful’ . Above are photos of the Stuttmeisters and Brodericks having a picnic in the redwoods. Miller planted trees all over the Oakland Hills. The Stuttmeisters built forty home in Fruit Vale on streets they named after trees. Here are your Hobbits, your Gandalf’s, your Magical Men that made California a Mecca for those who use their mind, believe thinking is the best way to travel.

Dr. William O. Stuttmesiter is the gentleman with white hair and dark mustache. He played violen for the Oakland Symphony.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2012

Janke’s park offered all the necessary provisions for an outdoor holiday, which included a dance pavilion to accommodate 300 large glassless windows, a conical roof and a dance floor situated around a large spreading tree. The pavilion was also equipped with a bar, an ice cream parlor and a restaurant.

Months after my sister’s death I went to the Sacramento Library and looked at microfish about a legal battle between the heirs of Carl Janke’s estate in Belmont that appeared in the San Francisco Call. I lost the copy I made of that article that I am certain mentioned William O. Stuttmeister, and the sisters of Augusta Stuttmeister-Janke. Carl’s sons did not want Minni and Cornillia, to have anything, and one brother (or cousin) took their side, and was cut out. This has to be William, or W. JANKE. “The bride was attended by Miss Alice Stuttmeister, a sister of the groom, and Miss Minnie Janke, a sister of the bride, as bridesmaids, and Dr. Muldownado and Wm. Janke, a cousin of the bride, were groomsmen.” When Victor Presco turned twenty-one, the the Janke spinsters offered him a moving company in San Francesco. Apparently they saw him as the heir to the Stuttmiester legacy, and the Hope of a return to former glory because they had no children. How about their brother, William? Rosemary said this; “Your father was a made man.” Two days ago, in an e-mail, my cousin Daryl Bulkley confirmed my suspicions that ‘Stuttmeister’ was not the original name of the folks from Berlin. I suspect they were a branch of the Glucksburg family who became Calvinist Evangelicals, and perhaps Rosicrucians. In the top photo we see Minni and Corniallia Janke in the family vault that William Stuttmeister purchased for $10,000 dollars to put the reains of the Jankes and Stuttmeisters in after they were evicted from the Oddfellow cemetery. That William Ralston was a Oddfellow that put up a large sum of money to establish the Oddfellows in Germany – and perhaps elsewhere – makes me wonder about his alleged suicide by plunging into the bay. I am reading articles on the internet about the Oddfellows being the founders of the Welfare State in America, where being charitable to the poor, the infirmed, and the widows, was paramount. They also paid much attention to burying their dead, which suggests they believed in a different hereafter. As a theologian I have pointed out the strange raising of the dead in Matthew 27:53 at the very moment of Jesus’ alleged death.

I suspect Judas was given thirty pieces of silver to purchase Jesus’ tomb, and Jesus was about to practice the ancient Judaic ritual called of the RESUSCITATION, where the soul of the diseased enters the body of another. I believe this is why those who take the Nazarite Vow are bid to keep their distance from the dead. That the Oddfellows titled women as Rebekahs, suggests they are Rechabites, who have been associated with the Nazarites who composed the first Christian church called “The Church of God”. That Jesus came to be seen as God “the Father” is a usurption that began with Paul of Tarsus. That the fall of the Oddfellows in the Bay Area happened overnight, and all traces of their demise, all but disappeared, tells me there was a real Judas and purge. That Daryl pointed out in her research that we knew next to nothing about the Stuttmeisters, whose tomb was lost until seven years ago, tells me William Stuttmeister retired to the Geronimo Valley a disillusioned man, who played a rare violin, and left his Stuttmeister-Janke legacy to his housekeeper. And then he is dead, his remains put in the vault that I went to visit with my daughter and grandson. Before I left for California I told my friend Joy Gall, that I wanted a AA coin to put in this tomb in honor of Christine Rosamond Benton whose funeral fell on he first sober birthday in AA. As I lined up to view my sister in her casket, I did consider the Nazarite Vow I took in 1989. As fate would have it, I ended up putting this coin in William Oltman Stuttmeisters crypt because there was an opening made by the earthquake of 1989.

On this coin is an Angel. In 1992 I began a biography of my family called ‘Bonds With Angels’. It begins with an account of the Blue Angel that appear at the foot of Christine’s bed that woke her and Vicki, who crawled into Christine’s bed and beheld her. Vicki was six years of age, and is clean and sober this day. The Nazarite Vow bids one to not ingest alcohol, not get drunk, so that the Holy Spirit may speak through you, use you as a Horn of Power to broadcast the Word of God. When I entered the tomb of my ancestors and sat down on the marble bench, I noticed the letter A made of brass lying behind the faux fern plant. I picked it up. It was the A in JANKE that had come lose in the earthquake. I looked up at the stained glass window and read; “In loving memory of my beloved wife, Augusta Stutteister,” Was Augusta the Angel that came to visit my sisters? May our bonds with Angels continue – forever more! Amen! Jon Presco Daily Alta California, Volume 42, Number 14175, 24 June 1888 STUTTMEISTER-JANKE. One of the most enjoyable weddings of the past week took place at Belmont, Wednesday morning last, the contracting parties being Miss Augusta Janke, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. August Janke of Belmont,
and Dr. Wm. Stuttmeister of San Francisco. The house was handsomely decorated with a rich profusion of ferns and flowers, and at the appointed hour was filled with the relatives and intimate friends
of the contracting parties. At 11 o’clock the wedding march was played and the bridal party entered the parlor. The bride was attended by Miss Alice Stuttmeister, a sister of the groom, and Miss Minnie Janke, a sister of the bride, as bridesmaids, and Dr. Muldownado and Wm. Janke, a cousin of the bride, were groomsmen. The Rev. A. L. Brewer
of San Mateo performed the beautiful and impressive ceremony under an arch composed of flowers and greens very prettily arranged, after which the guests pressed forward and offered their congratulations. The bride was attired in a very pretty and becoming costume of the crushed strawberry shade, and wore a corsage bouquet of orange
blossoms. She carried a handsome bouquet of white flowers. After the guests had paid their compliments the bride and groom led the way to the dining-room, where the wedding dinner was served and the health
of the newly married pair was pledged. The feast over, the guests joined in the dance, and the hours sped right merrily, interspersed with music singing and recitations, until the bride and groom took their departure amid a shower of rice and good wishes. Many beautiful presents were received. Dr. and Mrs. Stuttmeister left Thursday morning for Santa Cruz and Monterey, where they will spend the honeymoon. On their return they will make their home in Belmont. 1911: Dr. Willian O. Stuttmeister was practicing dentistry in Redwood City, CA. (Reference: University of California, Directory of Graduates,

1864-1910, page 133).
Records from Tombstones in Laurel Hill Cemetery, 1853-1927 – Janke
– Stuttmeister
Mina Maria Janke, daughter of William A, & Cornelia Janke, born
February 2, 1869, died March 1902.
William August Janke, native of Hamburg, Germany, born Dec. 25,
1642, died Nov. 22, 1902, son of Carl August & Dorette Catherine Janke. Frederick William R. Stuttmeister, native of Berlin, Germany, born
1612, died January 29, 1877.
Mrs. Matilda Stuttmeister, wife of Frederick W.R. Stuttmeister, born
1829, died March 17, 1875, native of New York.
Victor Rudolph Stuttmeister, son of Frederick W.R. & Matilda
Stuttmeister, born May 29, 1846, died Jan. 19, 1893, native of New

http://www.ebooksread.com/authors-eng/daughters-of-the-americanrevolution- california-s/records-from-tombstones-in-laurel-hill-cemetery- 1853-1927-gua/page-6-records-from-tombstones-in-laurel-hillcemetery- 1853-1927-gua.shtml Copyright 2011

About Royal Rosamond Press

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