In 1960 I did a painting of the end of the world. I was going to send it to the candidate that won the election that year – but it was not dry! I may have sent my letter I wrote. I had a copy, but it got lost. I had just turned fourteen.
Last night, I began to recall my Anti-war poem that I wrote when I was twelve. I have a copy of it. I was not told my sister Victoria Mary Presco was dead. When I found out, I asked her son for my painting back. It depicts a sunny day in LA. It would be a nuclear blast. Shamus Dundon did not send it.
This morning I turned on CNN to watch the war news. I got an old movie on TCM. I googled the title of the movie so I could hear one of the saddest war songs ever written. It is about millions of yoing people going to war, and, many were not ever going home again. It is the most specitific and personlaized message you can find. That generation foufht the Nazis – and won! They beat the Japs in the Pacific! And now, it is………..over? What happened?
Rena and I met in 1970 when the war in Vietnam looked like it was going to never end. Nixon is in the White House, and not John Kennedy who would have got my End of the World – masterpiece! I talked about Peace with Rena atop our mountain. I name our beach after her.
I wanted to run for Governor of Oregon, but, it’s too late. You can write me in.
On this day April 11, 2026, I John Presco announce I am a candidate for the office of President of the United States. I will be listed as the Grand Master of the Rougemont Knights Templar. This is a very dangrous thing to do. I jointed severl Kights Templar groups that are hateful towards Muslims and Democrats. There is a good chance they gave Tump and Netanyahu the impression very moral Americans wanted to go to war. And it would be a just war fought by the kind of Warrior Peter Hesgeth wants. The Head of the War Department will hate me and this blog if her becomes aware…
I EXIST
John Presco
Victoria Beach
Posted on July 8, 2017 by Royal Rosamond Press
6/6/2024
Capturing Jesus On Victoria Beach
Tom | January 12, 2024
In the analogue realm of music, vinyl records continue to captivate audiophiles and collectors alike, offering a rich and authentic listening experience. Yet, amidst the analogue charm lies a subtle, often overlooked detail—the matrix code etched into the runout groove of each vinyl record.
Today is D-Day, and Trump is invading the Silicon Valley with the help of Computer Billionaires. The Gideon Computer, and The Royal Janitor – have come true!
In the 70s and 80s most of the hit movies were about poor people ganging up on the billionaire who is buying their neighborhood from under them. They got Jesus – on their side! Today, the Billionaires got Jesus on their side, and with millions of Christian voters behind them, they are poised own our Democracy.
Yesterday I made two friends for life. Jan and Anita gave me a vital clue when they told me their late friend, Al Trommers could recite Matrix Record Codes. Rena Easton does this with poems. A half hour ago as I pieced together this post, Ben Toney and Radio London – appear! Ben and Broadway Al are now together on – the Quest!
Go to my facebook and view the last ten videos.
John Presco
Former UK spy chief says Trump reelection is national security threat
The former head of the United Kingdom’s spy agency said a potential second term for former President Trump is a national security threat to his country.
Sir Richard Dearlove, former chief of the U.K.’s Secret Intelligence Service, said in an interview with SkyNews on Sunday that a Trump reelection would be “problematic” for the United Kingdom due to the former president’s issues with NATO.
Victoria Beach
Posted on July 8, 2017 by Royal Rosamond Press
Dawn of The Russian Blue Drone
Posted on March 15, 2024 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Royal Janitor
by
John Presco
Copyright 2024
“Nothing lasts forever, but a Great Betrayal.” said starfish on the other side of the safe door made of one inch stainless steer. “Take the betrayal of Netanyahu and the President of the United States. He and his Rabid War Zionists are counting on Donald Trump being reelected, and Israel can change U.S. Presidents like a pair of shoes – tennis shoes! They think they got the Christian Nationalists in their back pocket. Of course they want to see Donald installed as King of America. But they didn’t count on a million drones, and other war robots, that are being built inside Russia by the descendants of Kiev Royalty.”
The Janitor
Posted on January 11, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Janitor
For two years I have been contemplating a treatment for a movie based upon my experiences with my muse, Rena Easton. After she sent me her infamous letter, my plan was to complete my book ‘Capturing Beauty’ and give her and her husband much of the proceeds. Rena tells me her husband has sustained injuries that might end his career as a rancher. Rena also has been injured, and works as a janitor. She tells me how exhausted she is, and, she is getting old. I saved her when she was seventeen, and want to save her again. My connection to Ian Flemming, and her marriage to British Commodore, Sir Ian Easton, is a shoe-in for a Bondish-like flick. But even more inspired to me, is Ben Affleck is about to sign to do a sequel to ‘The Accontant’ .
The Janitor is about a young woman named Sabrina, who goes to live with her beautiful sister in Washington D.C. who modeled before some of the wealthiest and most powerful women in the world. Monica was approached by the CIA, and became a spy. When Monica got work for Sabrina, and when she walked the runway, she was recruited by a British spy, a member of MX13. Some very wealthy Lords of Parliament were being blackmailed. They were being compromised. Some of them appear to have been murdered. The one thing they had in common, was their grandmothers had been American Citizens. Several maids, or cleaning women were suspects. The thing they had i common, was they danced for the Royal Ballet. They had been trained by a Russian master named Pauline. Some of these cleaning ladies were marrying Russian oil tycoons.
Ben Affleck is in talks with Warner Bros. for a sequel to last year’s action-thriller “The Accountant.”
The studio is also in negotiations to bring back screenwriter Bill Dubuque, director Gavin O’Connor, and producers Lynette Howell Taylor and Mark Williams for the untitled project.
“The Accountant” also starred Anna Kendrick, J.K. Simmons, Jon Bernthal, Jeffrey Tambor, John Lithgow, and Cynthia Addai-Robinson. The storyline followed a small-town certified public accountant with high-functioning autism who makes his living uncooking the books of criminal organizations.
Deputy Sheriff, Dan Mayland, owns one of the strangest incidents in the history of police work. One dark evening, Rena Easton entered the Sheriff’s Office in Bozeman Montana, and emptied the contents of a brown paper bag on the counter of the Justice Center. Rena demanded Justice. Deputy Dan was looking at my letter to my Lost Flame, torn in myriad bits. She then whipped out a copy of my letter that she duplicated from memory. The piece de resistance’ was the copy of the letter she composed on Christmas Eve, and sent to me. It was written in her perfect way. She is like a human typewriter. None of the letter, touch. The blue paper, is lined.
Dan told me this when he called me in Oregon and said Rena filed a stalking order against me. I asked him if Rena called before she came in. She did not. She came in cold, with her evidence. I asked Dan if he thought her advanced memory and cognitive skills was believable to him.
“How do you know that is what I wrote her, and, she did not make it up? I would have to see her copy. And, what about her letter to me. Do you believe a ballerina for the Royal Academy would end up being a Janitor? Do you know her alleged husband?”
“No. We never met.”
“Did you find anything in my alleged letter that was alarming and dangerous?”
‘No.”
Dan would later offer…….
“There’s no accounting for the scorn of a woman. You know how woman are.”
I had to laugh! No! Now man knows what this scorn is, and why. Dan understood I was gazing upon the mountain wild flowers, when I stepped in a bear trap. He knew I was a gonner. No one would hear my cries echoing down to the valley floor. This was no country for crybabies. You’re going to have to take your punishment like a man.
I showed Rena’s letter to Marilyn who was held hostage by her ex-boyfriend, a Native American Artist, who had spent time in prison. He cut her phone line, kicked down her door, and raped her. Marilyn called me from a woman’s shelter. Then, this psycho called me – after I talked to the police. M had dropped her restraining order after he tortured her. He was in her house. They could not remove him. I made threats. He had a crazy friend. I had my friend in Oakland come up and get me. I moved out of the state. Marilyn disappeared for two years.
I have done a lot of work with co-dependency. M and I have talked at length about her allowing herself to be taken Hostage in her relationships. I asked her if she thought Rena was prone to do this because of her childhood abuse. She thought this might be the case. When Rena’s twenty-six year old boyfriend came to take her back to Nebraska, she chose to be with me. They had engaged in dark sex. I was healing her. But, I was like a hostage taker. We lived like outlaws in the woods in a tent. I was homeless. I am reminded of the movie ‘Badlands’.
Rena’s grandmother thanked me for taking good care of her when I called. This abused child was sent to live with her father’s mother, I assume to get her away from her alcoholic father who held Rena and her brother, James, hostage. Because we suffer from PTSD and can not grasp what happened to us, we recreate our abusive environment. We will pick our Jailors. Rena chose well. Her letter is a cry for help. However, you are not supposed to hear that cry. If you offer help in any way, you are going to get it. You will be rebuked. You will become The Villain.
What is amazing, is Dan has made a career ib helping abused children. He come to their rescue. How could he ever forget our letters, that were coauthored by children still held prisoner. Rena never mentioned her mother. The rule is “the mother always knows”. Why didn’t she come to the rescue of her children?
“I have worked as a janitor for thirteen years. It amuses me a little bit that I have become such a red-neck woman. I’m no longer young and pretty. I guess I am something else now. I have a million poems memorized. I can always gage my highs and lows by my focus, and my desire and ability to recite them whilst vacuuming at work. My mind can roam free there, but I do get ever so tired, and bored, lonely as well. I love my boos, Pauline. She is very professional, very tough, but ever so kind. I enjoy manual labor.”
The Movie Begins
Sabrina is vacuuming the office of United Airlines at the Bozeman airport. We can barely make out what she is saying. The camera comes closer. For those in the know Sabrina is reciting ‘The Masque of Anarchy’ by Percy Bysshe Shelly. She is feeling good today, even – chipper. He cadence is perfect. She is harmonizing with her vacuum cleaner that sounds like a bagpipe.
Now there is the music from Swan Lake, and Sabrina is transformed. Dressed in black she is sending powerful leg kicks into the groin of the men who have come to stop her. There is a cadence of groans. There is a faint smile on Sabrina lips as she recalls how badass she was when she was young. She raises her voice!Stand ye calm and resolute,Like a forest close and mute,With folded arms and looks which areWeapons of unvanquished war.And if then the tyrants dare,Let them ride among you there;Slash, and stab, and maim and hew;What they like, that let them do.With folded arms and steady eyes,And little fear, and less surprise,Look upon them as they slay,Till their rage has died away:Then they will return with shame,To the place from which they came,And the blood thus shed will speakIn hot blushes on their cheek:Rise, like lions after slumberIn unvanquishable number!Shake your chains to earth like dewWhich in sleep had fallen on you:Ye are many—they are few!”[3]
Cellphone vibrates
Sabrina feels her cellphone vibrating on he beating heart. It is Pauline. She has a cleaning job for her in the Ukraine. She goes into the Janitor’s Closet to change into her international flight outfit. A limousine picks her up. She calls her husband, Wayne Rogers a.k.a. Buck Rogers, and leaves a message telling him she had to work late. The camera pans the house. There is no evidence a man lives there.
In the air, Sabrina begins to recite the essay on Hostage Taking she has committed to memory. There are flashbacks. Landing in Odessa, there is another limousine wafting for her. She prepares herself, goes into he warm-up routine by reciting the janitor job description. This induces an out-of-body experience which allows her to detache. She is just doing her job.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2018
I want Sarah Douglas to play the older Sabrina, but, she must not overact. She should live with Rena for two weeks, and watch her expressions, note the energy she produces. She needs to relearn how to movie her body, and, be a dancer. Rena and Sarah are the same age. With diamond jewelry, Sarah is transformed from an old maid to a wealthy dowager. She is introduced to her understudy played by………………….”
http://www.listal.com/sarah-douglas
Augustus John, Ian Fleming, and Ben Toney
Posted on July 8, 2019 by Royal Rosamond Press
I posted this weeks before Ben Toney died. I wanted him to get a glimpse of how he was going to be remembered. I had come to realize I was involved in a real James Bond assignment which is to save the alliance between and the United States. I threw Holland into the mix, to only learn two days ago the Dutch had their pirate ship.
The making of Bond 25 is – cursed! The muses hate this movie. Violence and murder is not the message God wants to give in regards to solving world problems. In the name of kindred, Ian Flaming – I take over this production and legacy! I pirate it. I board this wreck and raise a United Flag that contains a musical note and a harp!
John
http://www.offshoreradio.co.uk/list45e.htm#noordzee
Ben Toney and Augustus John
Posted on August 20, 2018by Royal Rosamond Press
When I learned Ben was seriously ill and in the hospital, I knew he was going to die. I wanted to get a message to him before he left. This is in May. I only learned about the KORE connection, four days ago.
Chas Cunningham smeared and tried to destroy Gully Jimson’s mural that was inspired by the character and world of Augustus John, the close kin of Ian Fleming. Little people with little minds are always trying to do harm to the creative ones. This is why we dress, and act like fools. Perhaps they will leave us alone. Maybe, they will not go into a jealous rage?
ben got to know some very famous people, and just met quite a few. He told me he had drinks with Peter Sellers after a show, and I was jealous of Ben, for the only time. I have a Seller’s character in my Bond book based upon this – work of art!
My Friend Ben Toney
Posted on May 5, 2018by Royal Rosamond Press
babylonwales.blogspot.com/2008/05/augustus-john-and-james-joyce.htm
Ben Toney had a fall a month ago, and his health has declined. He is in the hospital. For six year we have been fast facebook friends. We shared so much information. We fought side by side the rise of Trump. Ben is a friend – and ally! He managed his facebook the way it was set up to be. He has so many wonderful memories to share, and there were no outsiders. If you found Toney, you were in the ‘In Crowd’. I found Ben while looking at the genealogy of Rosamond Clifford, his kindred.
I learned Ben was gravely ill when I posted on my Ian Fleming revival, that brings the Bond lineage back to life in his granddaughter, Victoria Bond. She has this dream, this vision, where a great fleet is gathered once again. The famous British artist, Augustus John, had a son, Caspar John, who refused the title Sir. He was a Sea Lord. I revive Tug Boat Anny, and put her on a tugboat on the Thames. From here she broadcast her talk radio show. I modeled her after the pirate ship Radio London. Ian Fleming is kin to the John family. My kin, Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor is kin to John via the Getty family. Her grandmother is Elizabeth Mary Rosemond. Liz was born in John’s house with twenty of his paintings on the wall. The character, Gully Jimson, is based upon Augustus John. He lives on a old barge on the Thames.
Above are two paintings of Fanny Cornforth by Rossetti. She was a whore. Would she have made porno movies if the technology was available? Trump may be brought down by a wanton hussy such as she, who would have made a great Queen of the Pirates. The top image is of The Grail Mistress. Under her is Fair Rosamond, Ben’s ancestor.
We are preparing to set sail. I have gathered The Grail Fleet. Leading this fleet, is the Golden Hind, sailed by Captain Sir Francis Drake. He was a pirate for Queen Elizabeth. Next comes Jimson’s barge. Next comes the ship that was Radio London. Then come the Navy Ship that Ben served on. Then, come the ships that Caspar commanded.
Hail Britannia!
You can say this fleet is a Bohemian fleet, a Gypsy fleet, a Rebel fleet, that will always set sail when a Tyrant and his gang of liars and crooks do away with the Free press, Freedom of expression, and…………The Truth!
I am asking for permission to use some of the image s from these sites. I am also suggesting a movie be made about the exploits of Ben Pirate.
I can not tolerate the idea of a world without Ben in it. I am witness to his fond farewells to member of his crew, and, am left with the sense we are losing a important part of our history. I salute all of these Sea Lords of the Airwaves who braved unchartered waters, and a new frontier.
Air Space………….The Final Frontier!
Jon Presco
http://www.radiolondon.co.uk/rl/bentoney/bookp1.html
Here are the vessels that Sir Caspar John served upon. He was born into a artistic family. I would like see the College of Defence Studies founded by the Artist, Sir Winston Churchill, expanded to include Creative People in Britain and the U.S. As a rule artists, writers, and musicians do not take slaves, gas people, and loot other people’s art. Hitler did all three. He was a bad artist who cost the world many lives, and a trillion dollars to put him down. We took back the art he stole and put it in sacred public places. I support Theresa May’s strike against Assad, who gassed his own people.
Below are the warships that Sir Ian Easton served on. I know everyday he thwarted the efforts of a dictator who robbed so much art that was not his, Caspar thought of his father and his Bohemian friends, doing what they damn well please, and being as different, and eccentric, as can be!
Long live the Bohemian Navy!
Jon Presco
Here are the vessels that Sir Caspar John served upon. He was born into a artistic family. I would like see the College of Defence Studies founded by the Artist, Sir Winston Churchill, expanded to include Creative People in Britain and the U.S. As a rule artists, writers, and musicians do not take slaves, gas people, and loot other people’s art. Hitler did all three. He was a bad artist who cost the world many lives, and a trillion dollars to put him down. We took back the art he stole and put it in sacred public places. I support Theresa May’s strike against Assad, who gassed his own people.
Emotional hostage takers can be your partner, your child, your parents or any person in your life. They can be hard to spot and even harder to cope with. Here are the warning signs to help you identify if you are in an emotionally unhealthy friendship or relationship:
- The person seems like they are your friend but the relationship is very draining on you. They conjure up situations that play off your sense of duty to the relationship. If the emotional hostage taker is afraid you are pulling away, or they don’t want you to do something with other friends, they will become ill, injured, or have a crisis.
- They may be a generally nice person but you have to watch what you say and do. Hostage takers can be easily upset which leaves you with a sense that you are walking on eggshells.
- They seem to have a lot of emergencies. They expect you to drop everything you are doing when they are having one of their countless crises. They may come across as helpless and in desperate need of your help but the situation doesn’t seem as bad as they are reacting.
- They have a way of making you question your perception of what’s going on around you. While the rest of the world seems to trust your judgment, this person tries to make you think you are crazy.
- Your feelings are trivialized but their feelings are positioned much higher in significance.
- Emotional hostage takers have a way of obligating you to the friendship. They may be very sincere sounding and appreciative of your time, devotion and energy but this kindness turns sour if you don’t comply with their plans for you.
- If you let them down, they will be angry and hurt with you. You might not have done anything wrong but they have twisted it somehow and now you must profusely apologize. You might not be clear as to why you are apologizing but you know you had better apologize because the situation is escalating. Emotional hostage takers are masters at laying on the guilt trips. They will increase the amount of guilt until you apologize enough for their liking.
- Hostage takers may hold you captive with charm, praise and attention. They will tell you things like you are the only person who truly understands them. This sounds nice but it will feel like a shackle.
- They can flip on you in an instant and make you feel like you are ungrateful and unappreciative of all their love and their understanding.
- These people usually have a deep seated insecurity and low self-esteem that is masked with a good appearance of confidence.
- If you feel isolated from your family and friends, you may be an emotional hostage. Their need for your friendship keeps you from being available to the other people in your life.
- The hostage takers’ needs and crises have a way of preventing you from going to social events where you can interact with others. It is easier to stay in their company than to have to deal with their negative reactions.
- If you do go to a social event without them, you feel like you have to omit or alter exactly what you’ve done so as not to upset them. They want to know exactly what you do and with whom. If they have disapproval, you will either feel their guilt or the sting of their anger.
- They may even entrust you by placing their well-being in your hands. The emotional hostage taker may threaten self-harm if you try to end the relationship. If they can get you to fall into this trap, this will become their go-to method of holding you captive in the future. It is crucial that you get immediate intervention through therapy for yourself and for them. If the person makes a suicide threat, then call 911. Let the experts handle this.
Gallatin County Sheriff’s Office
Page Liked · March 7, 2016 · Edited ·
Detective Dan Mayland grew up in north central Wyoming on a ranch that hosted multiple family businesses including a bed and breakfast offering guided fishing trips, 4-wheeler trips, rock hunting, hiking expeditions, winter snowmobile rentals, and guided tours. Not surprisingly, Dan is a passionate outdoorsman and enjoy hunting, camping, boating, fishing and anything outdoors. His hobbies include photography, cooking, archery, mountain biking, reloading ammunition, shooting, and gunsmithing.
After graduating high school Dan attended the University of Wyoming and graduated with a double bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice and Psychology. He focused on criminal psychopathology, criminology, forensic psychopathology, and forensic psychology. While in college Dan worked at a local ski resort during the winter months and as an equipment operator for a local construction company in the summer months. After graduation, he took a position as the Director of Sales at the ski resort, overseeing ticket sales, retail, ski school, and food services.
In 2005 Dan moved to Gallatin County, sticking close to the mountains and outdoor recreation he loves. He started his law enforcement career in 2009, to make use of his degrees. He chose Gallatin County Sheriff’s Office after extensively researching many departments throughout Montana and discovering that GCSO was a coveted office because they hired and staffed great people with great equipment in a beautiful fast-growing area. He tested for the Detective division in spring 2014 and was successfully promoted to the Property Crimes position. In the fall of 2014, the Crimes against Women and Children position opened and he successfully tested for that position; he took over that position in May of 2015.
Since joining the Sheriff’s Office Dan has been trained in Crisis Intervention Training, FBI Hostage Negotiations, Basic Police Mountain Bike School, Interview and Interrogation Techniques, Death Investigations School, Forensic Experimental Trauma Interview School, Bloodstain Pattern Analysis School, and Missing and Endangered Children Response and Investigation Training, among others. He is currently a certified hostage negotiator for the Gallatin County Sheriff/Bozeman Police Special Response Team, a certified MPAT Proctor and physical fitness coach for the Sheriff’s Office, and bike patrol deputy.
When you’re applying for jobs, there are certain skills that can improve your chances of getting hired for maintenance and janitorial work. Most janitorial jobs don’t require a formal education, and you typically learn on the job. Building maintenance work typically requires a high school diploma, but you also get on-the-job training. However, the more skills and experience you have to offer a potential employer, the better your chances of getting the job.
The Bureau of Labor Statistics predicts average job growth, about 6 percent, over the next several years in the areas of janitorial and building cleaning and general maintenance and repair. The bureau says that the healthcare industry especially will grow, along with the need for these kinds of workers to clean and maintain their medical offices and hospital buildings.
We’ve put together a list of skills employers seek in janitorial and maintenance work. Skills will vary based on the job for which you’re applying, so also review our list of skills listed by job and type of skill.
Administrative Skills
Janitorial and maintenance work is not only about cleaning. Someone has to organize what work needs to be done and when and where to do it. Cleaning supplies must be tracked, schedules set and records kept.
Victoria Beach
Posted on July 8, 2017 by Royal Rosamond Press
Rena was the muse to two California Artists. Christine Rosamond would not have become a world famous artist if I had not rescued Rena Victoria Easton, by the sea – twice! She would go on to marry Admiral Sir Ian Easton who flew a Fairey Fulmer off an aircraft carrier in WW2.
Rena is right out of a Black Mask comic book. I am certain that is writer, Arthur Barnes, and John K. Butler in the camping photo where a unnamed writer brandishes a hand gun. I will be sending this to Parks department in order to get the unnamed beach named after Rena, and the Queen, in honor of War and Sea Romance.
When I first lay eyes on Rena, she was hiding her fear. War creates fear. One had to overcome your fear in order to defeat your enemy. We only found out three years ago we had the same enemy. Rena is ruled by Mars, and I, by Venus. We are a hundred and eighty degrees apart. We were Yin and Yang atop our mountain, searching for Peace and Serenity while war raged in Vietnam. Rena fought me as she fought her fears. We are epic.
Rena may have married an Admiral and lived on the Isle of Wight in order to get over her fear of the sea. Is there a monument to the joint effort to defeat the enemy in the Pacific Theatre? Ian was in charge of making sure America and Britain would be allies, forever!
http://www.cnn.com/2017/07/08/politics/donald-trump-g20-club-of-one/index.html
Last night, world leaders listened to Beethoven’s 9th. Rena is a Aries, the god of war. She is my Damsel in Distress. I rescued her and helped her combat her epic fears. One could stand on Victoria Beach, and imagine a squardron of Spitfires flying out to sea to meet a wave of Nazi bombers in the battle of Britain. Beauty has been captured once again by the forces of evil. Our beautiful women need to be protected fro The Beast!
Christine Rosamond and Rena met. My sister looked deep into her. What she saw was her own fear and abuse, but it was hidden. They are like sisters. That outsiders were given THEIR STORY by an attorney associated with Alcohol Justice, is a true travesty, because it kept THE TRUTH down in a dungeon. Two beautiful artists and their beautiful muse – did not deserve this fate. Rena says in her letter her brother exhibited mental illness, and has disappeared. I have been disappeared because the truth can be frightening. I am just the messenger.
Victory over our fears! Peace……..at last!
Easton joined the Royal Navy in 1931 and qualified as a pilot at the start of World War II in which he saw active service on aircraft carriers.[1] On 4 January 1941, flying a Fairey Fulmar of 803 Squadron from HMS Formidable during a raid on Dakar he force landed, with his aircrewman Naval Airman James Burkey and was taken prisoner and held by the Vichy French at a camp near Timbuktu until released in November 1942.[2] He was appointed Assistant Director of the Tactical and Weapons Policy Division at the Admiralty in 1960 and was seconded to the Royal Australian Navy as Captain of HMAS Watson in 1962.[1] He went on to be Naval Assistant to the Naval Member of the Templer Committee on Rationalisation of Air Power in 1965, Director of Naval Tactical and Weapons Policy Division at the Admiralty in 1966 and Captain of the aircraft carrier HMS Triumph in 1968.[1] After that he was made Assistant Chief of Naval Staff (Policy) in 1969, Flag Officer for the Admiralty Interview Board in 1971 and Head of British Defence Staff and Senior Defence Attaché in Washington D. C. in 1973.[1] He last posting was as Commandant of the Royal College of Defence Studies in 1976: he commissioned armourial bearings for the College which were which were presented during a visit by the Queen in November 1977.[3] He retired in 1978.[1]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Triumph_(R16)
In 1922 a cabinet committee under Winston Churchill, then Secretary of State for the Colonies, recommended the formation of the College.[1] The college was founded in 1927 as the Imperial Defence College and was located at 9 Buckingham Gate until 1939.[1] Its objective at that time was the defence of the Empire.[1] In 1946, following the end of World War II, the college reopened at Seaford House, Belgrave Square and members of the United States forces started attending courses.[1] It was renamed the Royal College of Defence Studies in 1970 and in 2007 the Queen and Prince Philip visited the college.[1]
The British Defence Staff – US, which was previously known as British Defence Staff (Washington),[1] is the home of the Ministry of Defence (United Kingdom) in the United States of America and its purpose is to serve the interests of Her Majesty’s Government in the USA. The British Defence Staff – US is led by the Defence Attaché and has responsibility for military and civilian MOD personnel located both within the Embassy and in 34 states across the USA.
British Defence Staff – US alongside the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and other Government Departments collectively serve the interests of Her Majesty’s Government in the USA.
Every three days, or so, Rena and I would drive Eisenhower on Highway 1 and spend the day at my favorite beach. She did not have a favorite beach. She was afraid of the ocean. I found this out when we stopped on a beach in Santa Barbara. She put herself well away from the waves, with her back to them, reading a book.
“You’re afraid of the ocean, aren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
We would climb a ladder to get over the barbed wire that kept the sheep off the road. I always stopped to take a picture with my mind’s eye of Rena walking amongst them, to the cliff, and down the trail to a protected beach. It was like being in Ireland, or Scotland.
Being from Nebraska, I knew Rena was ignorant of the many dangers. I did not take a chance that she was a quick learner. Note the warning signs, with discourse. Someone is trying to save lives.
I would make us dinner here. I went to gather driftwood. Coming back with an armful, my heart jumped out of my chest. I dropped the wood and ran down the beach. Rena was nowhere to be seen. Did a sneaker wave take her? There was only one place she could be – if she were still alive. The chances of her being there, was very low. This was an extremely dangerous place.
There was a large rock that buttressed into the water. My heart was racing as I made my way to the other side. I was in a kelp bed. The tide was still low. And, there she was, sitting on a dry rock surrounded by kelp. The look on her face was painful to behold. I knew what she was doing. She was embarrassed that she was afraid of the sea. Well, there are times to be very afraid of the ocean.
I spoke as calmly and lovingly as I could. I did not want her to panic, slip on the kelp, and get hurt. If the tide was coming in, a ten foot wall of water would be pushed in, and not break like a wave. Rena would find herself in a thick kelp bed – just like that! Her struggle to get to the slippery rocks, would be epic.
“Rena! Stay calm. You can’t be there. It is not safe. Get up slowly. Watch your footing, and come towards me.”
The look on her face guaranteed I will love her till the day I die. She did exactly as I told her. When she was near, I grabbed her, and gave her a long hug.
“I thought I had lost you. I thought the sea had taken you from me.”
This is “Unnamed Beach”. How about Victoria Beach?
One day one of the women said leave
me to solitude and nature today I want
to write a letter home and then she settled
herself on the sand and wrote:
“They call this a barren rock — this
Anacapa Island — but yesterday the tide
was low, leaving the plant life exposed.
I wish that I could name the varieties
of sea weed and moss and their wonder-
ful color, but I drop my pen in despair
of ever giving you any conception of
them. The marine gardens grow upon
submerged rocks, for I discovered a
little sand path between them resembl-
ing the pathway of a garden. Hard
against a rock affording protection from
the direct sweep of the waves, I found
a multi-colored star-fish, his back covered,
at regular intervals, with tiny spheres
of white, as if a mermaid had decorated
it with pearls.
Note how the young girl’s father and brothers put her out on the rock to gather kelp. American women couldn’t vote when this image was painted.
(c) Nuneaton Museum and Art Gallery; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Black Mask Authors
Posted on July 28, 2013by Royal Rosamond Press
This extremely rare photo of the first west coast Black Mask get-together on January 11, 1936 captures possibly the only meeting of several of these authors.
Pictured in the back row, from left to right, are Raymond J. Moffatt, Raymond Chandler, Herbert Stinson, Dwight Babcock, Eric Taylor and Dashiell Hammett. In the front row, again from left to right, are Arthur Barnes (?), John K. Butler, W. T. Ballard, Horace McCoy and Norbert Davis.
Rosemary told me her father, Royal Rosamond, used to sail to the Channel Islands and camp with his friend, Dashiell Hammett who is seen standing on the right in the photo above.
Aunt Lillian told me she would fall asleep listening to Royal and Erle Stanley Gardner on the typewriter in the living room. Royal was Gardner’s teacher and a member of the Black Mask. I believe I can almost recoginize Black Mask authors under the tree on Santa Cruz Island sitting under a tree with my grandmother, Mary Magdalene Rosamond, who does not look very happy as she embraces a black dog. Who is that woman? Is she a writer? She looks a bit crazed, as does the guy holding a gun. Is Mary hearing some far-out and weird ideas around the campfire?
When I was fifteen Rosemary showed me about six magazines wherein her father’s stories appeared. There were several mysteries. I am going to send the camping photo to some experts. That looks like Raymond Chandler in front of the tent. Is he the guy packing heat?
Hammett wrote the Maltese Falcon that begins with a story about the Knight Templars. Was this a tale passed around the campfire on Santa Cruz Island?
Jon Presco
Copyright 2013
http://www.thrillingdetective.com/trivia/john_k_butler.html
Sir Ian Easton was the head of College of Defence Studies in Washington where I believe he met Rena. It appears Ian Flemming opposed the entrance of Americans into this unit, and his Bond novels were a coded protest. I am sure he knew about Flemming’s feelings, they discussed on a regular basis, especially when the Bond movies came out. Did Ian marry Rena in hope of employing her in a real spy drama, but, she proved, difficult?
Rena on the beach at night – alone
Posted on January 18, 2014by Royal Rosamond Press
It is 3:00 A.M. in the morning at the pier in Venice Beach California. It’s been twelve hours since she saw her boyfriend being chased down the boardwalk by a half-dozen muscle men that he called a name. She waited hours for him to come back. She saw the muscle men come back, but she dare not ask what became of him. She had no way of knowing he was in the hospital.
If Rena had gone down and sat on the sand, as it began to grow dark, she went up and sat in one of the bars. What money she had, got spent.
She dare not go back to the apartment she and her lover were staying at because the occupants had taken LSD, and were being rude and extremely suggestive. The two men that took her and her boyfriend in, were considering raping Rena, now that he was not there to protect her.
I am sure as Rena sat in the bar nursing a cola, some older guys put the make on her, tried to pick her up. She turned them down. When the bar closed, she took refuge in the recessed doorway. Christine, Michael, and I did not see her on our way to the end of the pier.
Rena dare not make a collect call to her grandmother in Nebraska for she would become extremely alarmed. What could she do at this late hour. Except for these three people, she had not seen anyone for an hour.
Then, she saw me stop about a hundred yards on the pier. She saw the young couple continue walking. She watched me. She studied me as I looked down on the crashing waves. There we were, alone, on the beach, at night. This beautiful young girl was never more afraid, never more convinced she would die.
* * *
When I was sixteen, Marilyn came and found me and had me go with her. She took me down a hall at our high school where they had a display case. There were works of art and some photographs. There was a young man standing on the sand looking out to sea. He was wearing a peacoat.
“Is that you?” Marilyn asked.
I studied it, then recalled a young man who came up to me while I doing my meditation and asked if he could take a photograph. I loved the ocean. I found sanctuary here with Marilyn, and then with Melinda.
“Yes. That’s me.”
I was famous for my seascapes. I could do one in six hours. I never knew what they would look like. After posting Walt Whitman’s poem, it came back to me.
I unbuttoned my peacoat and invited her to lie on a wing of it on the sand. I clutched her tightly to me as she sobbed. I felt her warm tears roll down my neck. I had just talked her out of walking north up the beach to her friends she said she had in San Fransisco. They were Beat types, like Sky, who was found dead with his beautiful face erased with a blow-torch. Melinda’s father sent two guys after this Venice Beat who was in love with his sixteen year old daughter.
I applied all my love, all my art, all my poetry, all the beauty I owned, in my search for a solution. I had just turned seventeen. I had no job, no money, no home of my own, and no power.
When I saw Christine and Michael coming back from their walk to the end of the pier, I started walked back to my little sister’s apartment. That’s when Rena sprang out of the door towards me.
“Can I walk with you?”
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
My grandfather, Royal Rosamond, was encouraged to take up writing by Jack and Fanny Cory, tow creative siblings not unlike I and my sister, the world famous artist known as Rosamond.
The Channel Islands remind me of the Isle of Wight where the poets Tennyson and Swineburne lived. It was Royal’s dream to found a retreat for poets. Both of these English poets were inspired by Fair Rosamond.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/2917899
http://www.sacred-texts.com/etc/ml/ml22.htm
Jon Presco
IT WAS a glorious summer morning
at the Chautauqua at Ventura-
Bgra by-the-sea. A breeze wafted in
5^™* from off old ocean, Jaden with
mysterious odors — a salt tang — as wel-
come as it was invigorating.
As far out as the eye could reach, a
cobalt mist clung to the bosom of the
sea, above which the peaks and slopes
of the Anacapa Islands appeared, height-
ened by the uncertain thickness of fog.
To the right, on a high plateau, but a
few rods from the beach, “Pierpont
Inn,”, that wonderful hostelry — stood
like an old lion looking out to sea.
Although early, the bathers were
sporting in the surf, shouting their hap-
piness above the thunder and roar of
the breakers. A maiden in a bathing
suit of translucent green came dripping
from the surf, seating herself hear where
the waves were spreading out like great
fans. She began to arrange, with deft
fingers, the massive coils of golden hair.
Suddenly, a great wave rose up,, curved
and spilled, and the contour of her slen-
der body was caught in sharp relief
against the foam — a vision of jade and
ivory and gold perched imperiously be-
yond the waves.
Two couples came up from the sea
and threw themselves upon the clean
white sand to dry — among the dunes
over which appeared the Chautauqua
Building and the rows of white tents —
the tent city.
One of the women shrieked in ecs-
tacy of delight, throwing the dry sand
as she had splashed water the moment
before. “Oh,” she cried. “I am the
mate and the captain bold, and the crew
of the Nancy Lee; I’m going to explore
those islands!” pointing toward Ana-
By Roy Reuben Rosamond
Anacapa twenty miles away.
“Completely wearied by this ocean
air and splendid environment, science,
religion, literature and music and art!”
exclaimed Frank, her husband.
“Certainly not,” laughed the girl,
pelting him with sand. “I expect to
camp here every summer of my life and
rest and hear the lectures and the music,
but a trip to those islands is the missing
link in my chain of happiness. We have
gone sailing, fished and bathed in the
sea, visited the grand old San Buena-
ventura Mission and the Native Daugh-
ter Palms, enjoyed the scenic beauty
of the Matilija and the drive around the
Triangle, and now it must be a trip to
the islands. And so it was agreed that
they would go.
A boat was chartered and the day set
for the trip ovei*.
The Captain steered the boat Anacapa
— the morning that they started — one
point west of south. This would bring
them to the little harbor at the islands.
Perched upon the roof of the cabin,
forward, the women enjoyed every mo-
ment, for the sea was as calm as a lake.
Frank and John were aft, where the trol-
ling lines claimed their attention. Sud-
denly a line stretched taut. “Another
passenger!” Frank shouted; and then the
Captain slowed down until a twenty
pound albacore could be taken aboard.
The excitement was intense until the
fish lay flopping on the deck.
The Santa Barbara Channel is always
interesting to those crossing to or from
the islands. Whales and sharks are
often seen and a trip is seldom made
without passing through a school of
porpoise. Sea gulls circled the air.
A coast line steamer appeared to port
and then dissapeared to starboard, cross-
ing the bow.
“We should be able to see the island
presently” said Frank.
The Captain looked at his watch.
“Three hours out,” he said. “They
are about three miles off.”
“See the arch there at the east end.”
said the Captain. Immediately all eyes
338
OUT WEST
were turned toward the solitary rock
near the larger east island, resembling
the arch of some great gateway.
“How long are the islands?” asked
John.
“About six miles long,” the Captain
replied. “There are three islands in
the group, the west island and the middle
island separated by a gap about ten feet
wide, and the middle and east island
separated by a wide gap, where the
waves of the south meet the channel
waves, making a great roar as they
come together.”
“It appears to me that the west is-
land would afford some hill-climbing,”
said Frank. “It must have been the
peak of a great mountain before the
deluge.”
“Yes, it is difficult to climb,” agreed
the Captain. “It is almost a thousand
feet high. Those dark spots you see
just above the surface of the water are
the caves. And the marine gardens
lie near the shore. Can you see the camp
there near the first gap? That is where
we land. We call it Webster Bay.”
“See the houses there on the middle
island!” Rose exclaimed.
“They were built years ago, by Fish-
ermen, and are now used by the campers.
Just below them there is a cave that
has never been explored and which roars
continually.”
The islands became more interesting
as the launch drew nearer. More caves
came into view. The rough jagged
rocks became more and more picturesque.
A seal thrust his head above the water
near a great garden of golden kelp.
It was twelve o’clock when the Anacapa
dropped anchor in Webster Bay. Every-
one declared that it had struck twelve
in their stomaches fully an hour before,
so keen was their hunger. So they went
ashore with only that part of the camp-
ing outfit that would respond to their
immediate wants. No need of haste
here in this other world where whistles
did not blow nor the telephone ring.
They chose a sandy shelf high above
the rocky beach, with a pathway lead-
ing up to it; and here they pitched their
tents. The real exploration began early
the next morning, after an out-of-door
breakfast. They secured one of the
Captain’s skiffs — and started toward
the marine gardens and the Painted
Caves, which are only a short distance
west of the harbor.
Soon they were looking over the edge
of the skiff at the wonders beneath
them. Mysterious, busy life swarmed
everywhere. The marine gardens ex-
tend to the very entrance of the Painted
Cave. Golden kelp swings back and
forth as the violet waves go slowly
in and out; but beyond the narrow en-
trance the water widens into a minia-
ture lake, and the receding walls and
roof are plainly visible.
Within the great dome-like cavity
a narrow: beach makes a half circle, and
here they left the skiff, climbing up the
sloping back-wall as if passing up the
aisle of same great theater. Water
lashing against the stony beach sent
up a sound to be pitched back and forth
against the walls until it became a hol-
low, awesome sound, filling the cave
with a roar.
The cave is about three hundred feet
in diameter and over a hundred high.
It is color rather than dimension that
makes it attractive. It looks as if a
painter had mixed, in turn, the brightest
colors with green, throwing the result
promisciously against the walls and roof.
The fact that the colors are always fresh
and vivid is a mystery to many.
The Painted Cave is the most beauti-
ful wonder-spot about Anacapa. The
nature lover will travel as far to see it
as the art lover to view a masterpiece
in painting.
West of the Painted Cave perpendi-
cular walls of rock come down to meet
the sea. A bald-headed eagle was perch-
ed on a high pinnacle like a guardian
of the isles.
The Water Cave was the next place
to be visited. Here the only fresh water,
excepting that caught in a cistern below
the houses, trickles down the walls,
watering the wild flowers growing in
natural jardeniers, being finally caught
in a cement basin some thoughtful fish-
erman had made some time before.
That afternoon they passed through
an arch in the ridge of the island and
explored a portion of the south side afoot,
the beaches where the moonstones
abound and the shells of many pattern
lure one into searching for them.
340
OUT W^EiS^T
Of all the shells none are so beautiful
as the abalone. Some seem to have
caught, in some mysterious manner, the
sheen of moonlight upon the water, still
others the crimson and gold of the sun-
set sea.
“Come,” said the Captain the next
morning. “We are going to the east
end of the island and see the arch and
will troll on the way.” This was an
invitation to all the campers, and so the
Anacapa glided away.
On the way to the east end the launch
passed by many interesting places. Just
below the houses there is a place called
Stingaree Bay, a narrow beach, the en-
trance of which is lined with jagged
rock-points. Here the Winfield Scott,
that merchantman of the olden, golden
days of California, loaded with gold dust
and bound for Panama, ran ashore in
the fog, Sept. 1852, and was wrecked.
A few of her crew managed to cross the
channel in a small boat, landing some-
where in the vicinity of Ventura, where
they sent a messenger by relay to San
Francisco and a rescue ship was sent
out from that port, reaching the remain-
ing crew of the wrecked ship after their
many days of hardship and suffering.
Not a man of the crew was lost, although
it was believed that only a portion of the
gold was recovered. For years a por-
tion of the half-submerged ship remained
in the little cove, its wreckage strewn
upon the narrow beach, but piece by
piece it has been taken by visitors and
cherished as a relic.
One day one of the women said leave
me to solitude and nature today I want
to write a letter home and then she settled
herself on the sand and wrote:
“They call this a barren rock — this
Anacapa Island — but yesterday the tide
was low, leaving the plant life exposed.
I wish that I could name the varieties
of sea weed and moss and their wonder-
ful color, but I drop my pen in despair
of ever giving you any conception of
them. The marine gardens grow upon
submerged rocks, for I discovered a
little sand path between them resembl-
ing the pathway of a garden. Hard
against a rock affording protection from
the direct sweep of the waves, I found
a multi-colored star-fish, his back covered,
at regular intervals, with tiny spheres
of white, as if a mermaid had decorated
it with pearls.
— “I think that the real charm of
these islands is the color and the clean,
pure sea. One day we looked down into
the sea from a great distance, into the
green and purple depths and the creamr
white racing foam. Purity! How near
God seems over here. One grows ac-
customed to looking at the life below
rather than the life above the water,
so deep can the eyes penetrate.
— “We have been here five days, have
eaten fish twice a day and have not
served the same kind twice. The law
on crawfish has been in force for two
years and is just out. The fisherman
are busy with their traps! We found
a cove where large crawfish abound, and
went to get one, with no other weapon
than the oars. The water was clear
and shallow, and there they were hugging
the grass-grown walls of the cove only
three feet beneath us. Frank stabbed
one with an oar.
— “This morning we climbed the middle
island and visited the ancient burial
ground. Judging from the dimensions
of their camping ground, which is strewn
with de-composed sea shells, there must
have been a large tribe here at one time.
— “Last night phosphorescence cover-
ed the whole surface of the sea and
when the great waves broke and pored
they sent out great flashes of shattered
light and glimmer. John threw a rock
into a quiet spot and as it descended it
left behind it myriad sparks like a comet’s
tail. Fish would pass near the shore,
with two streams of light trailing back
on either side. The spectral depths
were all aglow.
— “One of the island peaks reminds me
of the Statue of Liberty. And just
west of our camp there is a likeness of
George Washington on a point of rock
that juts out into the foam.
— “We must start for home tomorrow,
for our ten days provisions have lasted
but a week. Such appetites! Our main
diet, now, being fish. We are coming
again next year, but will be provided for
ajlonger stay, you may be sure of that.”
Our California Barrel Company
Posted on February 16, 2019 by Royal Rosamond Press
Enrique Landa of Associate Capital at the Portrero Power Station in Dogpatch. Photograph by SRK Headshot Day
“The project is currently funded and led by California Barrel Company, with support from Associate Capital and Meg Whitman, the CEO of HP Enterprise. The overall development would introduce up to 2,700 new housing units, 220 hotel rooms, 600,000 square feet of office space and more than 100,000 square feet of retail (including a new grocery store).
All my personal photographs are copyrighted, as is all my text, and, the name “California Barrel Company” which I have plans to use in a product for sale. I can not name this product. It is pure genius!
For two days I have been conducting an arduous search for the founder and owner of the California Barrel Company LLC. Late last night, I found him – I think! The listed owner is Enrique Landa, however, he is being backed by the infamous Meg Whiteman, who spent $140 million dollars to beat Gavin Newsom, who is a partner of my nemesis, Larry Chazen in PlumpJack founded by Gordon Getty. Setting up tax havens for large companies is Chazens specialty. Someone should have googled the CBC. They would have found me. Meg worked with Steven Spielberg. Who knows what kind of Hollywood hocus-pocus business they got going here. Wolfer Skluwer would make a great Bond villain.
“Beware of the women of the Wolf’s Scull!”
Already reeling from a Name Attack by Ed Ray, the President of OSU, I am now launching another defense – by going on the attack by employing my newspaper, Royal Rosamond Press. I made several calles to people involved, and sent e-mails. I got no responce. I gave them a tinkling of my family history. Now, I bring out the BIG GUN. My families tombstones may have been used as a seawall. Some were used to make gutters. In the Portreo Plan there is talk of rising water levels due to global warming. The ancient taboo about screwing with the dead, did not apply to San Francisco real-estate moguls. The A in JANKE fell off in the earthquake of 92.
When I read Ms. Whitman’s resume, and, who she knows, I knew I should be in the middle of them, chatting away, telling my family stories via a wand and big screen T.V.
“These are my kind of people!” thought I. But, tis another illusion, my latest temptation. Knowing how poor and powerless I am, and how much I spend to give My Magic away for free, I know I am a great threat to these Illusion Makers – that love to make money. I just want to make magic. We SF Hippies were like that. This is why I decided to run for President. I am in need of a safe home. I want to promote drug-free Bohemian-Hippie Ideas, before I die. We were ripped and vilified. It’s a tradition that Trump carries on.
“Must beat hippies for Rush and Hannity!”
There does not have to be a Battle of the Bay. When I read Meg was working on putting folks in space, I wondered if she was the benevolent Star Woman that took over the core of the Gideon Computer.
As to the legend Joaquin Miller carried infant my father on his lap when he went with Melba to SF, Miller died in 1913. I suspect it was Alice Broderick who carried Melba, she off to have lunch with her husband, William Broderick, who lived in Oakland, and worked at the CBC office at 1 Drumm Street in the financial district. The Bohemian writers used to meet at the stock exchange on Montgomery Street. Why Joaquin never ran for President, or talked about Spaceships, may be chalked up to his fear people may think he has gone – over the top! His mother had come from Coburg Oregon to live with him.
My science fiction novels are coming true! I worked on Elfine at the same time I worked on ‘The Gideon Computer’. Elfine is about Ivan, a Russian Master Spy, who ends the cold war because his dream was to live in Steinbeck Country and grow Socialist Lettice I found out Ivan is Russian for John, which is our President’s middle name. Many of our master spies are concluding Trump tried to end the latest cold war because he is very chummy with Putin, a master spy. Ivan had a half-breed alien daughter who was sent to live with him on his ranch. Sounds like trouble! Well, my science fiction books – came true!
I was on the bus with Sandy when I decided to run for mayor. I told her I would have a fireside chat and invite special guests. It was then I realized ‘The Authentic Human Being Show’ was about to become a reality. When I found Meg Whitman, I had – arrived!
Contact me, Meg! I own californiabarrelcompany.com Why not back a ‘Sure Loser’? I am kin to Ian Fleming and have been inventing a new way for young people to view movies – too – out of necessity, because the Bond movie folks will never have a Bond woman. They don’t know how! I already picked our star. My blog is a Never-ending Story and can be an ap. I have considered letting World Press put ads on my posts. Make me an offer! You don’t want anything to go wrong in Dogpatch, like the dead in Colma rising from their graves to take back what belongs to them.
In Meg’s Master Plan there is a call for art and murals. The Benton Muralists are in my family tree, thanks to the marriage of my famous sister, Christine Rosamond Benton who was born in Vallejo and grew up in Oakland. Our father was born in San Francisco. William F. Broderick is the third adult from the left. This photo was taken in the Oakland Hills where my grandfathers moved from SF after the Great Quake.
http://rosamond.com/collections/33008
“In late 2018, Meg Whitman announced that she was to be the first employee and CEO of Jeffrey Katzenberg‘s new video streaming platform Quibi. [49]. The platform will specialize in original, short-form content designed for smartphones. Katzenberg and Whitman have sold the idea as a mobile-based Netflix. Their investors include Disney, NBCUniversal, Sony, Viacom, and AT&T’s newly-rebranded WarnerMedia.[50]
Here is my historic CBC worksheet.
John Presco
braskewitz@yahoo.com
During the 1860’s a literary movement of considerable force and originality flourished in that boisterous, gaudy, nouveau riche metropolis of the frontier, San Francisco. Gathered here were Mark Twain, Bret Harte, Ambrose Bierce, Henry George, and a number of lesser lights, such as the flamboyant Joaquin Miller. Their activities produced one of the most exciting of American provincial rebellions.
Margaret Cushing Whitman (born August 4, 1956) is an American business executive, political activist, and philanthropist. Whitman served as President and Chief Executive Officer of Hewlett Packard Enterprise. Whitman was a senior member of Mitt Romney‘s presidential campaigns in both 2008 and 2012 and ran for governor of California as a Republican but supported Hillary Clinton in 2016.
A native of Cold Spring Harbor, a hamlet of Huntington, New York, Whitman is a graduate of Princeton University and Harvard Business School. Whitman served as an executive in The Walt Disney Company, where she was Vice President of Strategic Planning throughout the 1980s. In the 1990s, she served as an executive for DreamWorks, Procter & Gamble, and Hasbro.
Whitman served as President and Chief Executive Officer of eBay, from 1998 to 2008. During Whitman’s 10 years with the company, she oversaw its expansion from 30 employees and $4 million in annual revenue, to more than 15,000 employees and $8 billion in annual revenue. In 2014, Whitman was named 20th in Forbes List of the 100 Most Powerful Women in the World.[2]
In 2008, Whitman was cited by The New York Times as among the women most likely to become the first female President of the United States.[3] In February 2009, Whitman announced her candidacy for Governor of California, becoming the third woman in a 20-year period to run for the office. Whitman won the Republican primary in June 2010. The fifth-wealthiest woman in California with a net worth of $1.3 billion in 2010,[4] she spent more of her own money on the race than any other political candidate spent on a single election in American history,[5][6] spending $144 million of her own fortune and $178.5 million in total, including money from donors.[7] Whitman was defeated by Democratic former Governor Jerry Brown in the 2010 California gubernatorial election by 54% to 41%.[8]
The last Portals described how, starting in 1854, four cemeteries were installed in the then-desolate Lone Mountain area of the Inner Richmond District. Neighborhood boosters began a campaign at the turn of the century to clear this 320-acre city of the dead.
The vast majority of bodies were moved to mass gravesites, and anyone wanting to have decedents privately reburied had to pay for it themselves. Laurel Hill’s site is located in Cypress Lawn Cemetery, and called Laurel Hill Mound. Anyone who wanted to preserve a loved one’s tombstone had to pay for it themselves, and those left more than 90 days after the relocation were turned over to the Department of Public Works. They were repurposed for sea wall construction at Aquatic Park, creation of a breakwater in the Marina, lining for rain gutters in Buena Vista Park, and erosion control at Ocean Beach.
Stuttmeister Tomb in Colma
Posted on August 3, 2011by Royal Rosamond Press
A curator for the Oakland Museum called me yesterday and asked me to e-mail him the photograph of my kinfolk having a picnic in the Oakland Hills. I had just returned from Dot Dotsons in Eugene where Jo framed a enlargement of this historic event in a antique frame I purchased. She did a splendid job!Thanks to the Trust my uncle Vincent Rice left me, I have more funds to investigate and record my lost family history. Being poor I have had to endure hardship in order to visit my newfound daughter and newborn grandson in California. Tyler’s father was not there for his son, so when I went to see him for the first time I made a point to ground him in the history of my father’s people whom I and my cousin had just discovered were in a tomb at Cypress Lawn in Colma.
We three were the first kin to enter this tomb in many years. Tyler took an early lunch when Heather breast-fed her son on a marble bench facing the Tiffany window. Afterwards we went atop a hill and had a picnic next to these beautiful angels. Heather told me Tyler remembers being there. I was amazed when I saw his eyes follow a plane in the sky, and then smile.
My friend, Joy, had given me a special AA coin with the image of an angel on it for my late sister, Christine Rosamond, that I slipped into a crack made by an earthquake.
When we drove through San Francisco on our way home, I told Heather this was her and Tyler’s town now, for the Stuttmeisters are listed as a pioneer family, and made the Blue Book. In some respects, this was a Baptism.
Share this:
- Inventory
- Monetary Exchange
- Ordering Supplies
- Permits
- Planning
- Prioritizing
- Record Keeping
- Scheduling
Advanced Skills
These advanced skills can give you an edge in getting work at companies that need more than basic cleaning. As part of a building maintenance team, you’ll be the go-to person to work on minor repairs to structures and special maintenance projects, keeping the building whole and up to date.
- Carpentry
- Masonry
- Finishing/Refinishing Floors
- Painting
- Plumbing
- Roofing
- Welding
Basic Cleaning Skills
In addition to this list of basic cleaning skills, let employers know if you have special knowledge or experience with cleaning supplies. Some employers prefer to use “green” cleaning solutions, for example.
- Buffing
- Chemical Use
- Cleaning
- Dusting
- Mopping
- Polishing Furniture
- Safety
- Sanitation
- Scrubbing
- Sweeping
- Washing Floors
- Washing Windows
- Waxing
People Skills
Many janitorial and maintenance jobs are part of a team of workers, and you’ll all need to get along. In some cases, you’ll also interact directly with a company’s customers, especially if you’re on the job during business hours. And if you have aspirations of rising up the ranks to a supervisory position, great interpersonal skills will help you get there.
- Communication
- Customer Relations
- Following Instructions
- Interpersonal Skills
- Service
- Supervising
- Teamwork
Repair and Maintenance Skills
In larger companies, you’ll need to maintain the equipment you use to clean and maintain the buildings and grounds. The skills in this list tell potential employers that you’ll be their go-to person to keep their equipment humming. If you have experience with specific brands of equipment that have special maintenance requirements, by all means, let employers know.
- Building Repair
- Equipment Maintenance
- Electrical Repairs
- Fixing Tools
- Grounds Maintenance
- Maintenance
- Mechanical Aptitude
- Refurbishing
- Repair Electrical Fixtures
- Tools
- “A lot of it is the result of the growth (in the valley),” he said. “When we look at the local economy, it’s not just tourism that’s driving our numbers, it’s absolutely the people who live here and fly out of here and do work here.”
- Cognition is “the mental action or process of acquiring knowledge and understanding through thought, experience, and the senses”.[1] It encompasses processes such as knowledge, attention, memory and working memory, judgment and evaluation, reasoning and “computation“, problem solving and decision making, comprehension and production of language. Human cognition is conscious and unconscious, concrete or abstract, as well as intuitive (like knowledge of a language) and conceptual (like a model of a language). Cognitive processes use existing knowledge and generate new knowledge.The processes are analyzed from different perspectives within different contexts, notably in the fields of linguistics, anesthesia, neuroscience, psychiatry, psychology, education, philosophy, anthropology, biology, systemics, logic, and computer science.[2][page needed] These and other different approaches to the analysis of cognition are synthesised in the developing field of cognitive science, a progressively autonomous academic discipline. Within psychology and philosophy, the concept of cognition is closely related to abstract concepts such as mind and intelligence. It encompasses the mental functions, mental processes (thoughts), and states of intelligent entities (humans, collaborative groups, human organizations, highly autonomous machines, and artificial intelligences).[3]Thus, the term’s usage varies across disciplines; for example, in psychology and cognitive science, “cognition” usually refers to an information processing view of an individual’s psychological functions. It is also used in a branch of social psychology called social cognition to explain attitudes, attribution, and group dynamics.[4] In cognitive psychology and cognitive engineering, cognition is typically assumed to be information processing in a participant’s or operator’s mind or brain.[3]Cognition can in some specific and abstract sense also be artificial.[5]
cc
Rosamond Press 
Leave a comment